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SOME NAVAL YARNS 

MORDAUNT HALL 




SUBMARINE HEAVING TO 



SOME NAVAL 
YARNS 



BY 

MORDAUNT HALL 



WITH A PREFACE BY 

LADY BEATTY 



NEW YORK 
GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS IN AMERICA FOR HODDER & STOUGHTON 

MCMXVII 






COPYRIGHT, 191 7, 
BY GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY 



NOV 12 19!/ 



PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA 



©GlA47S0r)2 
'VuO ( 



PREFACE 

A BOOK containing accounts of the work con- 
tinually and unceasingly being carried on by the 
gallant officers and men of the Royal Navy 
should prove of considerable interest to all, and, 
at the present time, especially to the American 
reader. I am glad that a New York journalist 
has had the opportunity of witnessing a part of 
the titanic task of our courageous seafighters, and 
of personally gaining an idea of the hardships 
endured by the plucky men who are watching 
our coast. This little book may help considera- 
bly to enlighten the general public on the work 
of the branches of the Navy, and prove that the 
men engaged in this tedious, hazardous, and 
nerve-racking vigil are going about it with the 
same old valour befitting the traditions of the 
Royal Navy. They have fought the savage 
beasts like true sportsmen. They have rescued 
enemy sailors, clothed and fed them, without a 
sign of animus, knowing that victory will crown 
their efforts to throttle the enemy of humanity 
and of civilisation. And that enemy is now the 



vi PREFACE 



common foe of the United States as well as of 
England. He has been the sly enemy of the 
United States even before the declaration of 
hostilities by the American Congress, while he 
was the avowed enemy of other countries en- 
gaged in this terrible war. 

These stories, light though they be, give a 
conception of what it is to search the seas in a 
submarine, and the bravery of the youngest 
branch of the Navy — the Royal Naval Air 
Service — is palpable even from the modest ac- 
counts given by these seaplane pilots. They have 
confidence in their supremacy over the enemy, 
and are all smiles even in the face of imminent 
danger. It shows that often British coolness and 
pluck have saved a machine as well as the lives 
of men. 

Of special interest is the talk with the captain 
of a minesweeper while he is on the bridge of 
his vessel. He tells of the many neutral lives 
that have been saved by English seamen at the 
risk of their own vessels and the lives of their 
crews. Noteworthy is it that Great Britain in 
the course of this war has not been the cause of 
the loss of a single neutral life. Mines have been 
placed at random by Germany's pirate craft. 

The grit of the English seaman comes to light 



PREFACE vii 



in the author's journey in a naval ambulance 
train, as does also the fact that the service takes 
the utmost care of its wounded and sick. In the 
account of the Royal Naval Division it is touch- 
ing to note that the men who are fighting in 
France and who distinguished themselves so val- 
iantly in the Ancre and other battles, still cling 
to sea terms or talk. 

The accounts in this volume may cause the 
people of my native country to appreciate the 
necessity for silence on the part of the British 
Admiralty, as now that their ships are linked 
with ours in the effort to defeat a common enemy 
the same idea of giving no information to the 
enemy even at the cost of criticism undoubtedly 
will be included in orders. Nevertheless, while 
playing the trump of silence, it is encouraging to 
read stories of the Navy so that the readers have 
certain knowledge that silence and brief reports 
do not mean that nothing is being accomplished. 
We have recently had an instance of the effi- 
ciency and courage of the ofiicers and men in the 
fight between two British destroyers and half a 
dozen of the enemy craft, in which the Germans 
lost two vessels and the British none. Com- 
manders and others greatly distinguished them- 
selves in this conflict, which occurred in the dead 



viii PREFACE 



of a moonless night. And the deeds of the 
Royal Navy are certain to be emulated by the 
officers and men of the United States Navy, for 
blood will tell. 

Ethel Beatty. 





CONTENTS 


PAGE 


Preface ..... s , 


V 


I. 


The Log of a Naval Airman . 


1 


II. 


Over the North Sea in a Sea- 






plane .... 


. 10 


III. 


Adventures in a Seaplane 


. 17 


IV. 


Sweeping the Sea for Mines 


. 23 


V. 


The Royal Naval Division 


. 32 


VI. 


A Naval School 


. 41 


VII. 


^'Gentlemen, 'The King'" 


. 47 


VIII. 


The Royal Naval Ambulance 


: 




Train .... 


. 53 


IX. 


A Run in a Royal Naval Am- 


- 




bulance Train 


. 60 


X. 


A Trip in a Submarine . 


. 67 


XL 


Life in a Lighthouse 


. 82 


XII. 


Watchers of the Coasts . 


. 89 


XIII. 


Crossing the Channel in Waj 


I 




Time . . . 


. 97 



SOME NAVAL YARNS 



SOME NAVAL YARNS 



I. THE LOG OF A NAVAL AIRMAN 

Men of the British services are exasperatingly 
modest. You are forced to wring stories of ex- 
periences from them, and when you are thrilled 
to the core over their yarns they coolly inform 
you that their names must not appear. Fortu- 
nately, there is something about a story which 
"rings true." From one of the soundest pilots 
of the Royal Naval Air Service I heard his ex- 
perience of the previous day. We will call him 
"Q," as he happens to be known in the station. It 
is his middle initial. He is a tall, well-built man 
of thirty, who knows a seaplane backwards, and 
it has been woe to the enemy when he met him. 
"We started at dawn," he began. "There's 
not much flying in the dark, only occasionally. 
First, we ran the machine out of the hangar, and, 
as usual, tried the engines. In the fading dark- 
ness or growing light it is a great sight to see the 
flames flashing from the exhaust. In the begin- 

1 



SOME NAVAL YARNS 



ning you run your engines slowly. Yesterday 
one of them kicked a bit. The cause for the 
hitch was discovered, and they were once more 
started. Remember that it is expedient that the 
engines be thoroughly tested before a flight, as 
you may spend anxious hours if something goes 
wrong. The spluttering ended, and we ran them 
up to full speed. This done, we waited for more 
light before hauling the machine down to the 
water. Once the seaplane was water-born, we 
taxied ourselves across the port at moderate 
speed. As we rose in the air we had to be careful 
of the masts of the ships in the harbour, espe- 
cially as it was foggy. We then opened up the 
engines, and the seaplane rose. It was very thick, 
so we kept 300 feet above the water, flying on a 
course. There were two pilots and an observer 
in the machine. Our next work was to estimate 
the velocity of the wind. This is always rather 
difficult, and, at the same time, it is most impor- 
tant to have an accurate estimate of the wind. 
We steered ahead, hoping to see a mark which 
would guide the observer in his course; but be- 
cause of the fog, we were not able to pick up our 
mark. Hence we had to go on and hope for the 
best. 

"We flew higher, about 1,500 feet, and the 



SOME NAVAL YARNS S 

clouds were about 800 feet, so we were far above 
them. For two and a half hours we steered 
straight ahead on the lonely fog-covered sea. 
We were to meet some warships which expected 
us. But even after covering all that distance, we 
saw nothing at all, and therefore resolved to de- 
scend and see what prospects there were of 'land- 
ing' and saving our engines. The sea always 
appears calm to the man flying above it; and 
even when we were 30 feet only above the water 
we could not tell whether or no it would be dan- 
gerous to the machine to 'land.' 

"By that time we were naturally anxious, as 
we thought that in steering straight ahead, as we 
had done, we ought to have reached the ships 
with which we had the rendezvous. So far as 
we could, with the roar of the wind and the pro- 
peller, we held a consultation— nothing verbose 
■ — in mid-air to determine what would be the best 
move. We decided to alter our course so as to be 
sure of getting in sight of land. Half an hour 
later we saw the first sign of life since we had 
been out — an old tramp steamship. Ten minutes 
after we sighted land. When you are flying at 
sea the land, especially when it is low-lying, 
takes you by surprise ; it suddenly looms up when 
you least expect it. 



4 SOME NAVAL YARNS 

"We then picked up a mark and set off on our 
course for the rendezvous. So dense was the 
mist that we could not see more than one and a 
half miles ahead. However, we raced along at 
70 knots on our new course, and in twenty min- 
utes came in sight of the flotilla of warships 
spread out below in fan-like form, but all mov- 
ing fast. These ships, you see, keep on the move; 
but they stay for the time being near the point 
selected for the meeting. Instructions were sig- 
nalled to us, and we came up, and flew nearer 
and nearer the water. 

" 'Can we land?' was our first question. 'Land* 
is always used by a seaplane pilot even if there 
is no land within a hundred miles of him. Our 
aerial had been thrown out. It was too rough to 
go on the water — or, at least, not worth risking 
damage to the seaplane. We carried on our con- 
versation partly by shouting and partly by sig- 
nals, which were quickly understood. From the 
ships we received further instructions, and sped 
on to carry them out. We had no further dif- 
ficulties, and reached home just before sunset." 

As an illustration of modern warfare, and the 
fact that single British flyers are feared even 
by two of the enemy's planes, here is a story told 
by a young Englishman, who knows no nerves 



H K 



>TJ > 




SOME NAVAL YARNS 



when he is in the air, no matter how near he 
comes to being snuffed out by the shrapnel and 
bullets. He is a man of 5 feet 10 inches, with 
clear blue eyes and blond hair — one of those 
truth-loving Britishers who prefers to err against 
himself in his reports rather than tell of an un- 
certainty as a certainty. 

" 'Saw and attacked a German submarine, 
which dived before we could close in on her,' 
read this man from a log-book. He turned the 
pages, and a little afterwards came on this: — 

" 'Sighted German patrol, and exchanged fire. 
Got over Zeebrugge ' 

"That reminds me," he said, looking up from 
the little book which held the notes of so many 
exciting events. "They sent me out then when 
I ought to have been off duty." 

He smiled, as did his hearers. 

"Well, I got over the Mohl," he added. 
"That's the German pier at Zeebrugge. The 
Mohl showed up black, and the water looked 
lighter in the darkness. I was up about 2,500 
feet, and dropped bombs on the seaplane base. 
I mean, of course, the German air base. Only 
a few moments, and they showed that they were 
ready for me, as the heavens around were lighted 
up with searchlights. I dropped a few more of 



SOME NAVAL YARNS 



my 'eggs,' and could not be certain of what dam- 
age I accomplished, although I saw flames spurt 
up from several places. Then the enemy sent 
up two long rows of rockets, making an avenue 
of light so that I could have read by it. These 
infernal things parachute when they get to a cer- 
tain height and, with the fire hanging from them, 
stay stationary, leaving but one exit. If I had 
run the machine into the rockets it would have 
been ablaze in no time. These fireworks stay in 
the air for about two minutes, which is a devil of 
a long time when you are up there. Thanks to 
this lighted avenue, I showed up more distinctly 
than I would have done in the daytime. The 
end of the avenue, I knew, was the target of their 
anti-aircraft gunnery. I flew out, and shrapnel 
tore all around me. My machine was struck sev- 
eral times, and, as bad luck would have it, the 
patent point of my magneto fell out just when I 
got to the spot where shrapnel was thickest. 

"My chances of getting home then seemed 
pretty slim — engines out of order, lit up by fire- 
works, tip 2,500 feet, and a target clear as a pike- 
staff for the gunnery. However, I managed to 
slide in the direction of the ship on the French 
coast. It seems easy to keep out of the way of the 
guns; but, of course, they have a demoralising 



SOME NAVAL YARNS 



effect on a man in the air. Not so much at dark 
as in the day, though. Well, I got home all 
right. 

"Only a day or so afterwards I dropped a 
bomb on or near a German U-boat, and I can't 
say to this day whether I struck or damaged her. 

" 'Very lonely,' murmured the pilot, reading 
from his log. 'Just saw a torpedo boat.' On the 
next day, let's see. . . . Oh, yes. . . . 'Saw two 
German destroyers, and raced back to our ship, 
and British ships sped after the Germans.' 

"A day or so later I had run in with two 
German machines. It chanced that there was a 
wind blowing about 30 knots, and I was merely 
out scouting, and did not carry a gun. The two 
enemy ships were joined by a third, and then 
they gained sufficient courage to come a bit close. 
They shot away my aileron control, and we were 
in a very bad way. For twenty minutes we were 
continually under fire, and below there was a 
heavy swell. It really was only through know- 
ing how scared is the enemy flyer when you go 
for him that I am here to-night. I let the enemy 
planes get nearer and nearer to me, and by the 
time they were ready for firing I dived at one of 
them. This so upset the poise of the three ma- 
chines that they turned tail and swung around 



8 SOME NAVAL YARNS 

to come at me. They made huge circles to get on 
my flanks again. All this took time, and during 
it I was getting nearer and nearer my base. Now 
and again the enemy machines were like too 
many cooks and the broth; they nearly crashed 
into each other. This also upset their nerves. 
Incidentally, when you are in the air, only the 
other machine appears to be moving, and you 
seem perfectly still. My escape is due in part 
to the arrival of one of our fighting seaplanes. 
A German is desperately afraid of them, unless 
there are four Germans to one Britisher. When 
they saw this fighting Britisher coming they did 
not take long to get away. They knew who the 
flyer was, too, for a man's style in the air is al- 
ways characteristic. They had heard of this 
flyer before. So they turned tail, and I got back 
with a machine out of order. 'The Prussian 
code of politeness,' we call it when they retire 
with two or three machines against one of ours. 
It is the respect that they show for our fighting 
seaplanes. Of course, this does not detract from 
the confidence we have in our superiority." 

I heard also that seaplanes have been called 
upon to serve at all sorts of tasks on the dismal 
briny. On one occasion a senior naval officer of 
an English port received word that neutrals were 



SOME NAVAL YARNS 



out in boats, and that they had no water or food. 
Their steamship had been torpedoed, and their 
last message by wireless had been caught by the 
British. The naval officer despatched a seaplane 
with bread and water, and the pilot delivered it, 
with other trifling necessities. 

One of the most beautiful sights that meets the 
eye of a seaplane pilot is when he comes on the 
scouting parties of British warships. They are 
never at a standstill, and to keep moving and in 
the same place they all make a wonderful circle 
at full speed, with one vessel in the centre. That 
ship is to receive the message or whatever is 
brought by the seaplane, which in the event of 
calm weather lands on the water and sometimes 
sends off one of her officers to talk to those 
aboard the vessel protected by the ring of speed- 
ing grey warcraft. 



II. OVER THE NORTH SEA IN A 
SEAPLANE 

To have an accurate conception of some of the 
experiences of a seaplane pilot of the Royal 
Naval Air Service, I took advantage of an op- 
portunity to go aloft over the North Sea. 

"Come with me, and we'll get you togged out 
for the ride," said the gunnery lieutenant. He 
was a Canadian, who had lived many years in 
Rochester, N. Y., and it was he who remembered 
that I would need something warmer than the 
clothes I wore. 

In the room to which he conducted me were 
many different styles of air garb. He picked 
down a hat and coat of black leather, observing 
that they would serve the purpose. 

The morning sun shed a yellowish glow on the 
dancing sea, and the wind was blowing at the 
rate of 32 knots. It was agreed by all that there 
would be an excellent view from the aircraft as 
the day was clear. By the time the gunnery lieu- 
tenant and I reached the ways on which the great 
seaplane rested, men in overalls, begrimed with 

10 



SOME NAVAL YARNS 11 

oil and dirt, were testing the engine. As the 
great propeller spun round, coats ballooned out 
with the rush of air, and the noise was such that 
one could hardly hear one's own efforts to shout. 
It was a sound which filled you with awe. The 
propeller was stopped after a few minutes, and 
the mechanicians shot up the sides of the craft, 
and punched oil and gasolene into the places 
where it was needed. Young officers in naval 
uniforms stood around the machine — all are usu- 
ally interested in a departing seaplane. Not far 
from us were many immense sheds in which were 
some of the newest types of England's youngest 
branch of the Navy. There were aircraft there 
which bespoke the inventive genius of the 
Briton, and the confidence of the young pilots 
inspired you with pleasure — it was a confidence 
that they could beat the enemy at one to two. 

Presently the chief mechanician announced to 
the pilot that all was well, and the man who was 
to take me above the North Sea, attired in his uni- 
form and a thick white woollen scarf, climbed 
up the seaplane's port side. He signalled to 
me to follow, showing the places for me to put 
my feet. The climb was more difficult than I 
had imagined, and a literal faux pas might not 
have aided the flying ability of the machine. 



12 SOME NAVAL YARNS 

There was no lashing the passenger to a seat 
in the plane. The place in which I sat would 
not have cramped three men, the pilot being in 
front. There was a loose leather seat cover atop 
a wooden box as the only sign of comfort. 

"Make the best of it," said the pilot. With 
that, he turned on a switch, and the propeller 
whirred a warning of departure to the clouds. 
It was a parting shot to ascertain that the en- 
gines were in trim, and after the engine had been 
stopped the craft was wheeled out into the wa- 
ters of the bay, and then again the propeller rent 
the air with a burring noise which is surprising 
even if you are more or less prepared for it. 

For the first few seconds we apparently swung 
along on the water's surface, then skimmed 
along, the floats at the sides of the plane bobbing 
on the slightly crested sea. It was only a matterof 
less than a minute before I realised that we were 
rising in the air between sky and water, and with 
amazing speed we soared, and soon were 300 feet 
in the air. Still our aircraft climbed and 
climbed. The ocean, which had been beating on 
the sands now outside, seemed peaceful and 
green. The town which I thought had such wind- 
ing streets when I walked through them now 
looked as if it had been laid out by a landscape 



SOME NAVAL YARNS 13 

architect. Up, up we travelled, and the higher we 
were the more deceptive was the North Sea. 

Through, or, at least, far above, the opening 
to the port the pilot steered the seaplane, and 
far down in the sea I saw a strip of dusky some- 
thing pushing a white speck before it. The pi- 
lot signalled for me to look down. It was then 
that I realised that this funny little thing was 
a British submarine going out to sea. The pilot 
bellowed something; but I could only see that 
he was shouting, no sound coming to me above 
the din of the propeller. We steered straight 
out to sea, and miles away I saw a grey speck 
— a warship prowling over the lonely depths. 

After listening to stories of pilots who have 
been tossed on the bosom of the waters for twen- 
ty and thirty hours, the thought of the hard- 
ships these pilots have to undergo came vividly 
to me. I thought of how I might feel if a dozen 
anti-aircraft guns made us their target. Behind 
us the town now had almost disappeared. The 
officer kept the nose of his machine towards 
France, and I thought, as we sped on, of the 
young officer who had an appointment for din- 
ner with his fiancee, and who had descended in 
the wrong territory only a week before. These 
daring pilots, however, think nothing of cutting 



14 SOME NAVAL YARNS 

through the air from England to France and tak- 
ing a bomb or so with them for Zeebrugge on the 
way. 

I began to think a great deal of my pilot. He 
was about twenty-seven years old, and was cool 
and certain. He was a dare-devil, and had only 
been over in England a short time after spending 
months on the coast near the front. 

The town had disappeared, and it was evi- 
dent that we were practically at the mercy of the 
compass. I felt no dizziness at the great height. 
In fact, I had no conception of the altitude of 
the seaplane then. Perhaps I was comforted by 
the whirring of the propeller, the thundering 
rumble of which was increased by the stiff wind. 
I looked headlong down, and experienced no 
sensation of fear. I seemed to be in a solid mov- 
ing thing as stable as a machine on earth or wa- 
ter. We must have been up 4,000 feet and pos- 
sibly 100 miles out at sea. There was a same- 
ness about the travelling. You heard the roar- 
ing blades, and saw the deceitful sea and clouds 
on a line with you here and there. The pilot 
turned the plane, and soon we were headed for 
land. We kept at the same altitude, and after a 
while beheld the shore line. The marvellous 
speed of the aircraft appealed to me then, as it 



SOME NAVAL YARNS 15 

was not long before we were over the harbour 
gates. At the same time, the seaplane just then 
did not seem to be making any headway. From 
a height of 4,000 feet the great vessels looked 
like fair-sized matches. How impossible it 
seemed to aim straight enough ever to hit one 
of those narrow things. As we turned around 
above the town in the direction of the hangars 
the trembling wings appeared to waver a bit 
more than usual. I looked down at the town, 
and we appeared at a standstill. You can tell 
sometimes when persons are looking at the planes 
by a speck of white, which is a face. The earth 
and sea rose nearer, for, as one does not appreci- 
ate, the plane was descending. 

Our seaplane swung around and around like 
a bird about to settle, and, as the seagulls do, 
alighted on the waters against the wind. With 
remarkable skill and patience the pilot carefully 
steered the machine until she faced the ways on 
which waited a throng of air-station officers and 
waders. Soon we were properly placed, and a 
dozen men clad in waterproof clothes splashed 
forward into the water, and caught the floats of 
the seaplane's wings. As the engine had been 
stopped before we landed, I got the first chance 
to speak to my pilot. He told me to get on the 



16 SOME NAVAL YARNS 

back of one of the waders, and in a few minutes 
I was again on dry land. Then the first thing 
I thought of was how the machine looked in the 
air. The officers congratulated my pilot on a 
remarkably fine landing. 

We had been more than two hours and ten 
minutes in the air, and we were both glad of a 
good stretch as we walked to the hangar, the 
burring buzz of the propeller still in my ears. 



III. ADVENTURES IN A SEAPLANE 

It was an interesting gathering which faced the 
warm fire in a smoking-room of an East Coast 
station of the Royal Naval Air Service. Many 
of the seaplane pilots who were attired in the 
blue and gold of naval officers had recently re- 
turned from successful endeavours in their haz- 
ardous life in the North Sea and on the Belgian 
Coast. And here they were in old England chat- 
ting about their experiences without brag or 
boast — ^just telling modestly what had happened. 
On one side of the spacious room, on a long, 
deep leather-cushioned sofa, were an officer of 
the guards who was known to have an income 
of at least ten thousand dollars a year, and who 
had taken to flying for the excitement; a stocky 
youth of twenty from Salt Lake City, Utah, who 
was known to have eked out a livelihood on fifty 
cents a day at Dayton, O., so that he could pay 
for his training as a pilot; another youngster, 
scion of a wealthy Argentine family with Eng- 
lish connections; and an Englishman, just over 
thirty, who had been born in California and had 

17 



18 SOME NAVAL YARNS 

heard the 1914 call of the mother country. They 
were cramped, but comfortable. 

In other chairs of the deep, comfy English va- 
riety were a rancher from Canada; an Olympic 
champion, whose name has often figured in big 
type in New York's evening newspapers; a lieu- 
tenant-commander of the Royal Navy, who had 
hunted big game in three continents; a wind- 
seared first mate of a British tramp ; a tanned tea- 
planter from Ceylon; a 'Varsity man from Cam- 
bridge, whose aim had been a curacy in the 
English Church ; a newspaper man from Roch- 
ester, N. Y. ; a London broker; the head of a 
London print and lithographing business, looked 
upon as one of the best pilots in the service; and 
a publisher, who in pre-war days had been more 
interested in "best sellers" than in seaplanes. 

All were dreadnoughts who looked upon it as 
a privilege to give their lives to smash Prussian 
militarism. If you had asked any one of them 
for an interview he would have scoffed at the 
idea. But ordinary newspapermen cannot be 
blamed for being enthralled at the share of these 
pilots in the World War. What's printed about 
them? Just a paragraph to the effect that "Sev- 
eral seaplanes last night bombed Zeebrugge or 
Cuxhaven." They dashed out into the frigid 



SOME NAVAL YARNS 19 

North Sea with an errand, but their share in 
the fights and the valuable assistance they have 
been to Great Britain as scouts are seldom men- 
tioned. Still, they "carry on," asking for no en- 
couragement. And right here it must be ex- 
plained that "carry on" means to do or die 
in this war. It is the byword of the British of 
the day. 

It chanced that "Tidy," as we will call him, 
was the first speaker who had something to say. 
He had a reason for talking, for some evil genius 
had followed him for two days. The yarn is best 
told in his own words, so far as they can be 
remembered. 

"It was my patrol and I started from France 
at half-past five o'clock in the morning," began 
the seaplane pilot. "I shot out to sea for about 
thirty miles, and then continued to run along 
the coast for about 63 miles. I caught sight of 
a Dutch ship, and a little while afterwards ob- 
served a submarine. Almost as soon as I saw the 
vessel there was a cloud of smoke. I raced to the 
scene, knowing then that the Dutch tramp had 
been torpedoed by a German U-boat. Four 
miles further on I espied a second submarine. I 
opened fire on the first submarine, which then 
I saw had taken in tow a boat evidently contain- 



20 SOME NAVAL YARNS 

ing the survivors of the Dutch vessel. I ob- 
served one of the Dutch sailors crawl to the 
bows of the boat attached to the submarine and 
cut the rope. At that instant I dropped a bomb, 
which fell about 25 or 30 feet from the subma- 
rine. The under-sea craft went down very 
quickly, and I descended further and dropped 
my aerial, and the mechanician-operator sent 
out a message. I threw other bombs when I 
thought I detected about where the submarine 
was in the sea. It was like a hawk after a fish. 
The other submarine fled without giving me a 
chance. 

^'I continued scouting, having warned the 
British warships that two submarines were in the 
vicinity. It came over very misty, and in the 
deep haze I saw three or four German vessels 
coming out. As I turned, deciding to race home 
and give the word, my engines failed me. I 
went down and down, holding off from the white 
caps of the sea for two and one-quarter hours. 
My next adventure was the sight of some Ger- 
man aeroplanes. After fiddling around, I got 
my engine started, and flew up to 1,000 feet 
above the sea. It was lucky that I started the 
engine when I did, for the sea was becoming 
unpleasant. But then my magneto failed me, 



SOME NAVAL YARNS 21 

and I realised what was in store on those wind- 
torn waters. I was forced to dodge about like a 
bird with a broken wing. The wind freshened 
to 40 knots. Although we did our utmost to keep 
the seaplane ofif the water, it, of course, had to 
rest there, and I became horribly seasick. The 
mechanician and I tried to keep the craft afloat. 
We fired off our rockets, hoping to attract the at- 
tention of a friendly or neutral vessel, but at the 
same time realising that we might fall victims 
to the enemy. 

"All night the mechanician and I were tossed 
on the sea without a chance of attracting any- 
one, as our rockets had given out. The cold was 
unbearable, and both of us were very seasick. 

"Dawn came, and there did not even then 
seem much more chance of our being rescued 
than at night time. You could not imagine any- 
thing lonelier than a seaplane on the bosom of 
the North Sea when you are without food or 
drink. The rocking of the light craft would 
have made a good sailor keel over with seasick- 
ness. The happy moment, however, did come. 
We were spotted by a mine-sweeper, and she 
raced to the rescue. Our mangled machine was 
hoisted on the kite crane of the little vessel. We 
had been thirty-six hours without food and wa- 



22 SOME NAVAL YARNS 

ter, and most of the time bumped about on the 
sea. 

"That would seem to be abouJ: enough for the 
evil genius to perform, eh? But we were 
doomed to have another surprise in store. I 
went to bed in a room in a little hotel, and had 
hardly closed my eyes when there was a great 
explosion; the whole place seemed about to fall 
down. I put on an overcoat, and tore outside to 
discover that those blamed destroyers which I 
had seen earlier were bombarding the place 
where I went to sleep. A lucky shot demolished 
the building next to the one in which I was in 
bed; then I went back to bed, too tired to care 
what else happened." 



IV. SWEEPING THE SEAS FOR MINES 

There are days when a mine-sweeper captain, 
who is continually running the gauntlet of death,^ 
reckons that he has been fortunate. Usually 
this is when he just escapes being blown to bits 
with his vessel or sees what can happen to a 
steamship when it strikes one of the enemy mines 
planted at random in the North Sea. There 
are days when he goes out and sees nothing 
worth while. However, despite the great dan- 
ger, unseen and unheard until all is over, these 
mine-sweeper men guide their vessels out day- 
break after daybreak, with the same old care- 
free air, to perform their allotted task in this 
war. 

Many of these men were fishermen, who 
looked as if they had slipped out of funny sto- 
ries in their thick jerseys and sou'-westers ; now 
they are part and parcel of the British Navy, 
proud of the blue uniform and brass buttons and 
— when they have them — of the wavy gold bands 
on their sleeves. There are others who were of- 
ficers and so forth in the mercantile marine in 

23 



24 SOME NAVAL YARNS 

pre-war days. They have sailed the seas from 
John o' Groats to Tokio : and to them New York 
is merely a jaunt. 

One of the latter, who was a passenger-vessel 
officer, attracted a deal of attention at an East 
English port by his indefatigable labour and 
fearlessness in his risky job, until he was re- 
warded for more than two years of grinning at 
death by the Distinguished Service Cross. 

He knows Broadway well, can tell you where 
he likes best to get his hair cut, and where he 
considers they put up the best cocktail. One 
day I was permitted to take a trip with this cap- 
tain-lieutenant — and get back. Mine-sweeping 
has been written about by persons from Kipling 
down, so I will just tell you the story as I then 
saw it. 

The skipper stood on the bridge of his dusky- 
coloured vessel as she soused through the waters 
of the grim North Sea, his keen eyes ever on the 
alert fore and aft, and occasionally on the sister 
ship to his, coupled along with the "broom." 
They were "carrying on," as usual. This skip- 
per was a man just in his thirties. His face was 
cheery and round, and body was muscular and 
thick-set. In spite of the watch he and his first 
mate kept on this particular occasion, he found 



SOME NAVAL YARNS 25 

time to give me his opinion on certain things 
interesting to the men who go down to the sea in 
ships, and also an idea of what it means to be in 
command of a mine-sweeper. 

"You should have been with us on Sunday," 
he said, as he lighted his cigarette between his 
cupped hands. "It was more interesting than 
usual — had something of this damn thrill you 
talk about ashore and don't know what it is un- 
til you've been at the firing front or in one of 
these blessed ocean brooms. That chap across 
the way found a mine in his kite, and we had to 
cut the hawser in double-quick time, and get far 
enough away from it before we pegged a bullet 
in one of the horns." 

The skipper explained that none of the mines 
are exploded less than 200 yards from the vessels. 
He said that the experience he had just related 
would have sufficed for a day, but that an hour 
later, when he was still brushing up a part of the 
North Sea, not far from the coast, he received 
a warning from a trawler that a mine exposed 
at low water was just ahead of him. Not in his 
time had he seen a steamer go astern quicker. 
Afterwards, they deftly fished around for the 
mine, snapped its mooring rope, and brought it 
to the surface. When the mine was at a safe 



26 SOME NAVAL YARNS 

distance from all vessels, a couple of men then 
aimed their rifles at it until there was a loud ex- 
plosion which sent sand-coloured water 35 feet 
and more into the air. 

But the affairs of that Sunday were not yet 
complete. Twenty minutes after the mine had 
been exploded a great rumble was heard way out 
at sea, and soon it was ascertained by the captain 
of the mine-sweeper that a Scandinavian tramp 
had met her doom by striking a German mine. 

''We went off to see if we could pick up some 
of the poor chaps," observed the skipper. 
"Among the twenty-one men and boys we res- 
cued were four who'd been passengers aboard a 
passenger vessel which had been torpedoed by a 
German U-boat without warning near Malta. 
They told us, when they got down into our en- 
gine-room, that they were just having one hell of 
a time getting home. I don't blame them for 
thinking that. Through good fortune, and tak- 
ing chances of being sent to the bottom our- 
selves, we have saved the lives of many of these 
neutrals who might have perished. Yes, here we 
are mine-sweeping as a job, flying the white en- 
sign of the British Navy; and yet we have found 
time to save life imperilled by the enemy. 
Sometimes I wonder what sly Fritz would have 



SOME NAVAL YARNS 27 

to say if he'd even saved a single neutral. He'd 
be blowing yet. Did you ever stop to think that 
our Government never has jeopardised a single 
neutral life? On the other hand, the lives of 
neutrals that have been rescued at this port run 
into the thousands. They talk about the free- 
dom of the seas. What else has there been un- 
til Germany showed that what she wants is the 
'tyranny of the seas.' Leastways, that's how it 
strikes me. Ever stop to " 

His attention was caught by a signal from the 
other vessel, and a keen-eyed sailor wig-wagged 
back an answer. It was all right, although at 
first I still remembered the timely warning re- 
garding the slightly submerged mine. As a 
matter of fact, it was merely a desire of the sis- 
ter ship's captain to turn around and "sweep 
back," as the land-lubber might term it. 

"Let's see," said the commander, "where was 
I. . . . Oh, yes. . . . Realise that we go out 
and save lives that the enemy imperils far out 
at sea? They are lives that don't concern us, but 
we don't feel like letting a poor chap drown if 
we can help it. On the other hand, our enemy 
stops at nothing, and, moreover, takes advantage 
of our humanity. I think that it should be 
known that wc dash out to the rescue never 



28 SOME NAVAL YARNS 

knowing when the ship may go up against one 
of Fritz's eggs, which may be anywhere in the 
sea. Why do we go? Just to pick up a be- 
nighted lot from an ill-fated tramp, and there's 
nothing in it. Yet we do it all the time, and the 
CO. commends us for it, too." 

We came to a new spot in the green sea to 
sweep. It was fairly rough, and the little vessel 
bumped and jumped. And this is the work that 
goes on from daybreak to dusk seven days a 
week. If a trawler strikes a mine she usually 
counts on saying good-bye to herself and 80 
per cent, of her crew, and the other type of 
mine-sweeper is lucky if she gets off with a loss 
of less than 40 per cent. 

Back and forth in a monotonous sea we 
steamed, and you had an idea how dull this work 
can be sometimes; also that when it comes to 
sweeping you saw that the North Sea is a big 
place. 

''It's become a science," observed the skipper. 
"Fritz has a hard time many a night 'laying his 
eggs,' and the many ways we have of bringing 
them to the surface has baffled him a good 
deal." 

A torpedo-boat destroyer hove within signal- 
ling distance. The commander was handed a 




'Wi 




■''*W(*!^ 







SOME NAVAL YARXS 29 

message by a sailor. The alert skipper read it, 
and said: — 

''Tell 'em 'yes.* . . . Just want to know if we 
had swept around there." 

Still the smoke-coloured little vessels kept up 
the job of plying back and forth in the waters. 
Men were busy at the stern of the ships watching 
the wooden kites that are made so as to catch the 
mines by the hawser that is slung between the 
two steamers. The slightest sign of a ball-like 
piece of steel in the sea and the dullness of 
sweeping is relieved, for then the skipper knows 
that he has unhooked one of the mines. Along 
came a submarine, flying the white ensign of the 
Royal Navy. The mine-sweepers realise that 
these men have no arm-chair job, and admire the 
commander and crew of the under-water boats 
accordingly. A sailor semaphored with his 
arms, and the commander of the mine-sweeper 
sent a message back, and the submarine passed 
slowly on her way. 

"If some of those people at home and abroad 
at their firesides realised what the men at sea 
have to suffer to keep this coast free they might 
have a different way of talking," declared the 
commander, now taking to his much-burned old 
pipe. "Those chaps that have just come in have 



30 SOME NAVAL YARNS 

had a week without any sleep — or next to none — 
and their food has all been canned stuff. There 
are many persons who think the North Sea's a 
pond — same as they do over in America." 

On we steamed in our section of the waters 
with never a sign of a German mine. Finally, 
the day came to a close, and the captain ordered 
the hawser to be slipped and the kite hoisted in 
the stern crane of his vessel, the like being done 
by the other sweeper. 

As if glad that the day's work was over, the 
small craft pressed forward to the harbour, and 
were disappointed to find that a big tramp was 
taking up the room of their berths. They an- 
chored outside, waiting for the big steamer to 
get away. 

"Do they tell you when you can come along- 
side the dock?" I asked. 

"No need to," said the captain with a smile. 
"You'll see." 

We had been in the open harbour for about 
twenty minutes when the bows of the ugly vessel 
came slowly on. An instant later all the small 
craft were ready to speed to their respective 
berths In their turns, and it was not so very 
long before the mine-sweeper was tied to her 
part of the dock. The commander of the sis- 



SOME NAVAL YARNS 31 

ter vessel to the one I had been aboard came over 
to us. 

"Good ship that of yours?" I said. 

"Yes," muttered the man with two rings of 
the Royal Naval Reserve on his sleeve. "She's 
all right; but I love this ship. I had her a year 
ago, and she's a little wonder. It would take 
me a long while to love another vessel." 

My skipper laughed. 

"Just one of those days," he said. "Come, let's 
go and have a spot." 



V. THE ROYAL NAVAL DIVISION 

Buffeted about from Antwerp to Gallipoli, 
Egypt, the Greek Islands, Salonika, and then 
to France, first under an admiral, then part of 
an army corps, again under an admiral, and 
finally back to military regime — the life of the 
Royal Naval Division, which startled an Em- 
pire by their valour on the Ancre, has been one 
full of thrills, sorrows, threats of extinction, 
brave deeds, and perilous journeys. They are 
proud of their naval origin, and are also tena- 
cious of their naval customs, despite the fact that 
all their fighting has been done ashore and few 
sailors survive among them. 

In August, 1914, Mr. Winston Churchill, 
then First Lord of the Admiralty, mobilised and 
organised, as a division for land fighting, reserv- 
ist seamen, stokers and marines, and naval volun- 
teers whose services were not required afloat, 
also recruits drawn mainly from among the 
miners of the North of England and Scotland. 
Guards' officers, naval and marine instructors — - 
each in his own ritual — help to train them. To 

32 



SOME NAVAL YARNS 33 

the Navy, who raided them when it needed sea- 
men or stokers for its ships, they were "dry-land 
sailors." To the Army, they were just a bunch 
of "so-called salts" or "Winston's Own." But 
their instructors soon recognised that in these 
grousing, middle-aged stokers, and in these si- 
lent stolid illiterate miners and ironworkers 
from the North Country, they had the raw ma- 
terial of soldiers as fine as Great Britain can 
breed. 

In many respects, the Division has had the 
worst of both worlds. They have beaten their 
way steadily to the fore without much recogni- 
tion in print; but since Beaucourt fell, both mil- 
itary and naval men have been eager to grasp 
their hands. 

Now and again a brief mention fell to their lot 
while they were in Gallipoli, where the military 
were attracted to them a bit by the idea of calling 
their battalions after famous admirals such as 
Nelson, Drake, Hood, Collingwood, Anson, 
Howe, Benbow, and Hawke. Sir Ian Hamilton 
made mention of the fearlessness of the division 
in his despatches, and Major-General DAmade 
eulogised them for their bravery after the frays 
of the 6th, yth, and 8th of May, 19 15. In June, 
1 91 5, the Collingwood battalion was wiped out; 



34 SOME NAVAL YARNS 

of the officers of this battalion and of the Hood, 
who went to the attack, not one returned un- 
wounded. The other battalions also suffered 
terribly, having been equally contemptful of 
danger. 

Prior to that they had, of course, been to 
Antwerp. Even if they did not have a chance 
to do much, the Division, at any rate, caused the 
Belgians to hold out for five days longer than 
they might otherwise have done. 

Among the many brave men on the officers' 
roll are well-known Britishers who have given 
their lives for their country. There was Rupert 
Brooke, the poet; Denis Browne, formerly 
musical critic of The Times; F. S. Kelly, holder 
of the Diamond Sculls record, who also was an 
exceptionally clever composer and pianist; and 
Arthur Waldene St. Clair Tisdall, a great 
scholar and poet of Cambridge. He was 
awarded the Victoria Cross for his valour on the 
25th of April, at Gallipoli, for going to the res- 
cue of wounded men on the beach. To accom- 
plish this, he pushed a boat in front of him. On 
his second trip he was obliged to ask for help. 
In all, he made five trips in the face of great 
danger. He met death in action barely three 
weeks afterwards. 



SOME :N^AVAL yarns 35 

Lieutenant-Commander Arthur M. Asquith, 
son of the former British Premier, is one of the 
gallant men attached to the Hood battalion. He 
has been through the thick of many fights, and 
has been wounded more than once, escaping 
death through sheer good fortune. 

And one of the men whom all England was 
wild about is a New Zealander from Welling- 
ton, twenty-seven years old, now an acting lieu- 
tenant-colonel, who was described by an eye-wit- 
ness of the Ancre fighting as "a flying figure in 
bandages plunging over Germans to Beaucourt." 
He is B. C. Freyberg, a born soldier and great 
athlete. 

Before the Great War, this marvel of courage 
was fighting for Pancho Villa in Mexico; and 
the instant the European conflict started, Frey- 
berg realised that he might do better in Europe. 
He therefore deserted Villa, and set out afoot 
for San Francisco. His splendid constitution 
stood him in good stead, and he arrived there as 
fit as a fiddle, soon afterwards winning enough 
money in a swimming race to take him to Lon- 
don. In the English capital he received a com- 
mission as a sub-lieutenant in the Royal Naval 
Division, and his promotion has been rapid. 

Colonel Freyberg was caught in a live electric 



36 SOME NAVAL YARNS 

wire in Antwerp ; but it was of so high a voltage 
that he was not killed, sustaining only an injury 
to his hand and arm. He was even fired at by 
his own men, who believed that he was a Ger- 
man crawling through the wire. Just before the 
landing in Gallipoli, on the 25th of April, 1915, 
it was proposed to throw dust in the eyes of the 
Turks by landing a platoon at a point on the 
coast of the Gulf of Saros, where no serious 
landing was contemplated. To save the sacri- 
fice of a platoon, Freyberg, who was at that time 
a company-commander in the Hood battalion, 
pressed to be allowed to achieve the same ob- 
ject single-handed. His wish was granted; and 
on the night of the 24th-25th of April, oiled and 
naked, he swam ashore, towing a canvas canoe 
containing flares and a revolver. He recon- 
noitred the enemy's trenches, and, under the cov- 
ering fire of a destroyer, lit his flares at intervals 
along the beach. He had some difficulty in find- 
ing his boat again. A mysterious fin accom- 
panied him during part of the swim. He at first 
took it to be that of a shark, but found later 
it belonged to a harmless porpoise. After some 
two hours in the water, he was picked up, and 
for this gallant and successful feat he was made 
a Companion of the Distinguished Service Or- 



SOME NAVAL YARNS 37 

der. In Gallipoli he was wounded in May, 
again in July, 1915, and he was mentioned in 
Sir Charles Monro's despatches in connection 
with the successful evacuation of the 9th of Jan- 
uary, 191 6. 

Hence, this sailor-soldier in a comparatively 
short time attracted a good deal of attention 
among the naval and military authorities; so it 
was not surprising that when he applied for a 
permanent commission in the British Army he 
was given a captaincy in the Queen's Royal 
West Surrey Regiment. The same day, how- 
ever, he received this news he was seconded to 
the Royal Naval Division with the temporary 
rank of lieutenant-colonel. So he retained com- 
mand of his old battalion — the Hood. 

Inasmuch as the first despatches concerning 
the storming of Beaucourt referred to Lieuten- 
ant-Colonel Freyberg as "a naval colonel," all 
Britain was wondering who this hero could be. 
Some of his friends were not long in guessing; 
but it was not until the next day that Freyberg 
in name received credit for the remarkable ex- 
ploit on the north bank of the Ancre. In the 
first messages of the British success it was set 
forth that in a battle where every man fought 
nobly for the honour of his regiment and his 



38 SOME NAVAL YARNS 

country, one individual act of leadership stood 
out with peculiar distinctness. 

A witness of the battle told of the troops on 
Freyberg's left being held up, and that between 
him and them ran, roughly parallel with the 
line of advance, a spur which cut off the effect of 
the enemy's machine guns. After fourteen hours 
of fighting, bit by bit, the sea-dog soldiers had 
plunged through a mile of trenches and ground 
sorely marked by shells. Three machine guns 
then were pushed forward well beyond that line, 
and the still unsatisfied sailor-colonel, his shoul- 
der and right arm swathed in bandages, asked 
leave to go ahead and attack the village. His 
men were about i,ooo yards in front of the com- 
panies on his left, endeavouring to advance 
across the northwesterly slope. It was more like 
a matter of defence than attack. The men were 
few in numbers, and had fought like tigers for 
long hours without a rest. However, about 500 
men were collected, and the dark of night was 
spent in organisation. Then, in the misty dawn, 
some soldier battalions came up to reinforce the 
left, and onward plunged Freyberg. 

Out on the Ancre they say that he got so far 
ahead of his men that he rubbed his hand over 
his head and murmured ; "Huh — I believe I for- 



SOME NAVAL YARNS 39 

got to tell them to follow me." Whether or not 
this is true, only Freyberg knows. But we do 
not remain in doubt as to what he and his men 
did right afterwards. They ploughed their way 
through mud and Germans, with the fire of five 
machine guns peppering them. They stuck 
right on the heels of the barrage fire, and in less 
than twenty minutes from that time the Ger- 
mans had been driven from their stronghold of 
Beaucourt. Here and there a German post held, 
and men in the trenches faced the British bombs 
and cold steel. Still the Teutons soon learned 
that it was impossible to stop that alarming Brit- 
on and his men. 

Freyberg formed a semicircular trench 
around the far side of the new possession, and 
then they took time to see what had happened 
to the gallant little band. Freyberg had re- 
ceived his fourth wound, and his brave 500 had 
dwindled to a number a good deal smaller. The 
Britishers, somehow, had been unkind in their 
speed to the Germans, and the enemy was left 
gaping with wonder at the result of what they at 
first took to be nothing more than a bit of bluff. 

For this remarkable display of valour Frey- 
berg received the Victoria Cross. 

Reverting to the division itself, it should be 



40 SOME NAVAL YARNS 

said that every officer of these jolly-jack-tar sol- 
diers has panegyrics galore to cast in the direc- 
tion of General Sir Archibald Paris, K.C.B., 
who was in command of the division at Antwerp 
and the Dardanelles. He lost a leg before the 
Ancre fighting, and thus was disappointed of 
being with them for their great success in 
France. He was succeeded by Major-General 
Cameron Shute, C.B. What the division has re- 
cently accomplished and the way it has terror- 
ised the enemy, like Kipling's "Tyneside Tail 
Twisters," is a happy thought to General Shute. 
In one battalion it is estimated that 90 per cent, 
of the casualties in the Ancre fighting were 
caused by the closeness with which the sailors 
clung to the barrage fire. Their grit caused the 
enemy to pale. 

They are pleased and proud of their sea terms, 
and would not give them up for anything — not 
even if the soldiers of the King do not fathom 
their meaning. 

It is a case of going to the "galley," while the 
red-coat that was persists in the "kitchen." The 
first field dressing-station is nothing but "sick 
bay" to the R.N.D. man. They "go adrift" 
when they are missing from parade, and they ask 
to "go ashore" when they want leave. 



VI. A NAVAL SCHOOL 

From one of several institutions, every six 
months Britain turns out 2,200 boys v\^ho have 
mastered the elementary rudiments of seaman- 
ship and are ready to take their places as ordi- 
nary seamen aboard warships. They v^ill not 
tell you how many of these schools there are in 
Great Britain alone, but you may learn that no 
undue activity has been brought about in these 
places because John Bull is at war. After hav- 
ing waded through the curriculum of these boys, 
one comes to the conclusion that they are not so 
far from being able seamen by the time they 
emerge from this place on the East Coast. 

It is especially striking how speedily the 
youthful mind snatches up the mysteries of sig- 
nalling and of wireless telegraphy; and one is 
filled with interest in following the boys from 
the time they first enter the school to the day 
they leave. 

In a room where they are "kitting up" are 
twenty or thirty boys who have just arrived. 

41 



42 SOME NAVAL YARNS 

And, as they say In America, there Is "no mon- 
key business" about the Instructors: either the 
boys are those who are wanted or they are not. 
The youngsters receive their first seafaring garb 
in a large, well-ventilated room. They have been 
in the bath, and their hair Is as close as the clip- 
pers can make it. One of them said he was the 
son of a lawyer; another that his father was In 
the Royal Navy; a third came of a parson's fam- 
ily; a husky young chap had been a blacksmith's 
assistant; and another had coo-ed milk In Lon- 
don streets. 

"An','^ declared a petty officer, "they all comes 
here believin' they'll be able to get a pot shot at 
the Kaiser. Seems to me that they imagine that 
William is always standing on guard on the 
rocks of Heligoland, just waiting for them to 
come along — ^what?" 

In another section of the school the boys are 
grounded in discipline by a petty officer, and by 
the time they get through with him they are 
accustomed to saluting. Follows then a whirl of 
wonders to them. There is a model of the fore- 
part of a ship, which they can steer, and so learn 
port from starboard ; there is the Ingenious man- 
ner of dropping a lifeboat into the lap of the 
sea ; and then the interesting work of tying knots, 




ROLLER SKATING, AN EXERCISE USED TO KEEP FIT 
ON BOARD A BRITISH BATTLESHIP 




. ...'». 



SOME ISTAVAL YARNS 43 

in which the petty officer instructor takes con- 
siderable pride. 

One of the most interesting rooms of sub- 
schools is the one where the youthful "salts" are 
initiated into the mysteries of signalling, where, 
besides the numerous flags for sea conversation, 
there is a dummy wireless station, by which they 
can become proficient operators. They have 
models of ships, so that they can tell which are 
British and which are German. Then there are 
gunnery schools, and it speaks well for the young 
Briton that 90 per cent, of the pupils have such 
keen minds that they yearn to learn more of the 
mysteries of the study of sea fighting ; they have 
the ambition to be really good seamen, engine- 
room men, wireless operators, or signalmen. 

On a section of the school grounds there is a 
mast on which is hoisted the White Ensign of the 
British Navy. This spot is known as the quar- 
ter-deck, and every time one of the youngsters 
passes where he can see that mast he salutes rev- 
erently. Beyond that there is the recreation 
ground, where every Saturday afternoon in win- 
ter there are half a dozen games of football. 
The officers help them to enjoy that, too, for, 
like Americans, they delight in exercise. 

It is remarkable what a change a boy under- 



44 SOME NAVAL YARXS 

goes after a few months at the institution. I was 
told of would-be sailors who were sloppy and 
dirty when they entered the school being trans- 
formed into neat, fine physical specimens. 

"A hair-cut, a wash, a change of underwear 
and other garments makes all the difference in 
the world," said one of the instructors. "And 
when you add to this lessons in sea-neatness, a 
good deal of interesting headwork, manual la- 
bour, good food and plenty of recreation, it's 
no wonder that the mill makes a new boy of one 
of the seafaring aspirants." 

The boys have one great mess-room; and, al- 
though they never have been to sea, they are 
taught to treat the school as if it were a war 
vessel. They ate with vigour when I saw them, 
and I was told that the money given to them by 
the Government is spent for extras in the eating 
line — principally candies. Each table consti- 
tutes a mess, and there are prizes for the cleanest 
and best-arranged mess; so they arrange their 
knives, forks, and spoons in a design calculated 
to catch the prize-awarder's eye. And, inci- 
dentally, this idea of giving prizes for the best- 
kept mess is followed throughout the service. 

Each day is started with prayer on the quar- 
ter-deck, and an impressive ceremony it is. Hon- 



SOME NAVAL YARNS 45 

our and glory is what they will tell you they 
hope to get out of the Navy, and not money. 
And the idea of honour, as it is known in the 
Navy, is drummed into them from the moment 
they enter the school. 

To see these youngsters at any meal is to be- 
lieve that it was the first time they had eaten for 
a week. They are ravenously hungry, and the 
food is of such excellence that it makes a visitor 
feel as if he would like to sit down too. There 
is little waste here, for I observed that each plate 
was polished clean; and, when eating was over, 
the boys bounded out for an hour's recreation on 
the spacious grounds. On their way many of 
them paid a visit to the candy-store, and while 
they were playing they munched candy. 

The port where this school is located is a 
healthful spot, and in war time no person is per- 
mitted to board a ferry to the school without a 
special pass. When you first land you are de- 
cidedly struck by the great figure-heads of old 
war vessels, which are set up on the "quarter- 
deck" and in front of some of the buildings. 
There is one of the old Ganges there — a mam- 
moth wooden head of a very black negro. The 
size of it is startling. 

The officers have a charmingly comfortable 



46 SOME NAVAL YARNS 

ward-room and mess-room. In the bay is the 
second Ganges, now a sort of mother-ship for 
mine-sweepers and trawlers, and one of the bus- 
iest places one can imagine. The King not long 
ago dined aboard this ship, and is said to have 
expressed great interest in the work carried on 
from the Ganges. 



VII. "GENTLEMEN/THE KING' " 

There are many traditions to which the Royal 
Navy still clings, and there are messes afloat and 
ashore where it is manifest that time has not 
withered impressive and picturesque features 
of the days of the wooden warships. For in- 
stance, no layman can help being struck by the 
British naval officers' toast to the King. And 
the other toasts are offered with such splendid 
solemnity and grace that it makes one wish that 
something of the sort could be done at even the 
minor affairs where civilians are gathered. Of 
course, the Londoner and the man from Man- 
chester offers his toast at a great banquet, as they 
do in New York and other American cities to the 
President of the United States. But although 
it takes no longer at a naval mess, there is a 
something about it which places the civilian in 
the shade. With the Navy it is a mess, and not 
a dinner where there are many strangers, and 
every officer has been doing this since he was a 
boy. 
John Bull's naval officers are men who admit 

47 



48 SOME NAVAL YARNS 

the faults of their country. They have travelled, 
and have seen a good many other countries and 
peoples. From Osborne and Britannia days 
sincerity seems to have been inculcated into 
them. The discipline is inflexible, but kindly. 
The captain of a "Dreadnought" will take pains 
to ask a young midshipman to dine with him, 
and there exists a wonderful thoughtfulness on 
the part of the officers for the men. British 
naval officers are lovers of sports, and, having be- 
lieved the Germans good sports before August, 
1914, they cannot condone attacks on non-bel- 
ligerents or the shooting of nurses. His Majes- 
ty's naval officers do great things without talk- 
ing about them, and at dinner one of the star 
heroes of the war may be in the next chair to you, 
but you certainly will not hear it from him. 

Opposite me sat a man who had faced death 
with Scott on the Polar expedition. It was after 
I had left the mess that I learned this from one 
of his friends. But at a mess you may hear sto- 
ries of men who are absent. It was at dinner 
aboard one of the great, grey sea-fighters that we 
laughed at the yarn of a young middy, in charge 
of one of the cutters off Gallipoli when the 
Turks were sending shells like rain. This mid- 
shipman ordered his men to take cover. His 



SOME NAVAL YARNS 49 

men included bearded fellows twice his size and 
age. They obeyed, as they always obey. Then 
the youthful fearnought, to show his contempt 
for danger, stood on one of the cutter's cross- 
seats, pulled out a cigarette-case almost as large 
as himself, and puffed rings of smoke skywards. 

"I made a jolly fine set of rings that time," he 
told one of the men. 

Another of this tribe was in Cairo on leave 
when he received word that his ship was to 
leave sooner than expected. She was in Alexan- 
dria. Not having sufficient money to pay his 
train fare, he requisitioned a motor-bicycle and 
sped on to Alexandria. From his youthful eyes 
there welled tears when he was informed that his 
ship was weighing anchor. Nothing daunted, 
however, he commandeered a fast motor-boat, 
and swept out after the warship, which he 
caught on the go. This is the man who in later 
years you are apt to meet at the officers' messes — 
a man full of information and wonderfully ver- 
satile. He may have ploughed the seas for many 
years, and dwelt in his steel home in the baking 
heat of tropical suns, and waited for the enemy 
for many a day. Hence conversation never lags 
at these dinners. The meals are comparatively 
plain in these days ; but most of the officers stick 



50 SOME NAVAL YARNS 

to the delight of a cocktail before dinner, and 
after the piece de resistance they have their 
glass of port. 

Just before the dessert the port is pourea into 
glistening glasses, and the table is cleared. 

"Table cleared, sir," announces the steward to 
the president of the mess; and a second later one 
hears: "Wine passed, sir." 

"Thank God," is the brief grace of the chap- 
lain; or, if one is not present, the head of the 
mess says it. This is followed with a rap on 
the table, and from the president of the mess: — 

"Mr. Vice, The King.' " 

"Gentlemen, 'The King,' " speaks out the vice- 
president of the mess, who is seated at the other 
end of the table opposite to the head of the mess. 

Conversation, which a second before had been 
filling the place, is silenced by the grace, and the 
stranger may be somewhat startled by the sud- 
denness of the proceedings. It is the privilege 
of these officers to drink the King's health seated. 
This is an old custom, which came about through 
the sovereign realising that ships are not the 
steadiest places always, and the fact that the 
ward-rooms are sometimes not constructed so 
that a tall man can always stand erect. 

Immediately "Gentlemen, 'The King,' " is ut- 



SOME NAVAL YARNS 51 

tered by the mess's vice-president each officer re- 
peats in an undertone: "The King." The 
glasses after being held aloft come to the table 
as one, and the conversation is resumed. Garbed 
in their immaculate monkey-jackets, with the 
glistening gold braid on the cuffs, the men at 
the carefully set and beflowered table make a 
scene long to be remembered. 

Incidentally, there is a marine officers' mess 
at a certain port which naval officers are always 
ready to talk about. In that place they are proud 
of a wonderful mahogany table which has been 
polished for many years until it is now like a 
black mirror. The band of this mess is one of 
the best in England ; and it is the privilege of the 
bandmaster to play at concerts and in theatres, 
the proceeds being divided among charities, the 
bandmaster and his men. Hence the leader of 
this band probably had an income of $7,500 a 
year. 

Here, before the toast to the King is offered, 
servants come along each side of the great table 
and, at a given word, whisk the tablecloth from 
the shiny mahogany. The bandmaster is invited 
to have a glass of port by the president of the 
mess. The band leader seats himself, and sips 
his wine. Follows then the toast to the King. 



52 SOME NAVAL YARNS 

At the mess of the largest Royal Naval Air 
Station in England they have, by good fortune, 
obtained the services of a chef who formerly was 
of the Ritz Hotel in London; and especial at- 
tention is given to this mess. No matter how 
hard may have been the day's work or how many 
men have been forced to leave for other billets, 
the dinners there are a sight for the gods. More 
than 150 expert seaplane pilots from all over the 
world sit down. 

It is like a bit of history of olden days to hear : 
"Gentlemen, 'The King,' " with its charm and 
ceremony. 



VIII. THE ROYAL NAVAL AMBU- 
LANCE TRAIN 

Ready to speed to any accessible port on tele- 
graphic or telephonic orders from the Admiral- 
ty Medical Transport Department are Royal 
Naval Ambulance trains. They are always on 
the move, picking up wounded or sick officers 
and bluejackets at Scotch and English ports, 
bearing them to stations where there are great 
hospitals, to relieve the coast institutions likely 
to receive wounded in the event of a North Sea 
Fleet engagement. These grey-painted trains, 
with the Red Cross and the "R.N." on each 
coach, are the outcome of a great deal of study, 
and they are now run with remarkable efficiency. 
No millionaire could receive better care when 
wounded or ill than do John Bull's naval officers 
and seamen. 

Sir James Porter, the head of this service, 
whose pen sends a train to all parts of England 
and Scotland, has a loyal staff, which devotes 
remarkable zeal to their share of the work. 

63 



54 SOME NAVAL YARNS 

They take pride in making a time-record in dis- 
embarkation and entraining of patients. Naval 
surgeons at each railroad station watch the work 
of the stretcher-bearers to be sure that every cot 
has the gentlest possible handling when being 
carried from the train to the ambulance which is 
to take the patient to the local hospital. 

The "stepping" of the stretcher-bearers seems 
a trifling thing, but it is surprising to note the 
attention given to this point in the first days of 
the war. Dr. A. V. Elder, staff surgeon of the 
Royal Naval Volunteer Reserve and the right 
bower of Sir James Porter, practised for weeks 
the carrying of patients, getting into cots to as- 
certain the most comfortable step for the wound- 
ed. Prizes were even given to the men who car- 
ried a pail of water on a cot and reached a fixed 
point with the most liquid in the receptacle. By 
this means the best method of "stepping off" was 
evolved. There are hundreds of these stretcher- 
bearers — volunteers without compensation — 
who now perform the task so well that it attracts 
even the attention of the casual observer. The 
cot-bearers are doing their "bit"; they get to the 
railroad stations at all times to meet the ambu- 
lance trains, and often have to wait hours and 
give up their usual business. 



SOME NAVAL YARNS 55 

It may also be interesting to some that in those 
August days the Naval Ambulance trains were 
not much more than a series of box-cars. The 
present cot — an ingenious arrangement by naval 
surgeons — was used in the naval hospitals and 
aboard the warships. But the fixtures on the 
train for carrying this cot were far from perfec- 
tion. The patient was tossed about by the move- 
ment of the train, and it was realised that in the 
event of hundreds of patients being carried 
something would have to be discovered to steady 
the beds. Dr. Elder invented a clip-spring to be 
attached to the cot and the side of the coach. It 
held the bed, and had sufficient "give" to make 
it steady. In lieu of the box-cars, there are now 
coaches of the American type, with windows and 
great sliding doors which permit of easy ingress 
or egress. 

The railroad officials have listened to the bid- 
ding of the Medical Transport Officer of the 
Admiralty and have attached some of the best 
locomotives to these trains, usually of twelve 
coaches. Even when there has not been an ac- 
tion, and the trains are bearing mostly medical 
cases, all passenger and freight traffic gives way 
to the ambulance trains. If the surgeon in charge 
of the train decides that he has a case which 



5Q SOME NAVAL YARNS 

should be hastened to a hospital he wires ahead, 
so that when he reaches that point the surgeon 
or the agent there is on hand with an ambulance 
to rush the patient to a local hospital. 

Where it is possible, red tape has been elimi- 
nated. The cots in which the patients are car- 
ried are sent with the patient from a hospital or 
ship, and the patient is only taken out when he 
arrives at the hospital of his destination. For 
the cot bearing the patient, the train surgeon re- 
ceives in exchange a clean cot. This cot has been 
laundered and fumigated, and is kept on the 
train so that when only patients are entrained 
the surgeon gives a cot for each case taken 
aboard. Hence the surgeon always has the same 
number of cots on his train, and through this 
means paper and pencil work is avoided. The 
patient's clothes are packed in a bag, and all 
the valuables of one batch of patients are sealed 
up in one envelope, which is receipted for by the 
surgeon of the hospital to which the patients are 
sent. 

No patient is transferred from a hospital in a 
critical condition if it can be avoided. But some- 
times this is necessary, as it was following the 
Jutland Battle. Then the most serious cases were 
held in the hospitals; while, where it was possi- 



SOME NAVAL YARIS^S 57 

ble, hundreds of cases were despatched to insti- 
tutions at other ports. 

The route of these ambulance trains may dif- 
fer every round trip. One ambulance train may 
go to the North of Scotland, while the next one 
will only go to Glasgow or Edinburgh if there 
is no call further north. The wonderful or- 
ganisation not only undertakes to relieve hospi- 
tals, but also to ship the patients to institutions 
unlikely to be suddenly burdened with many 
cases ; and consideration is also given as to where 
the patient can receive the best attention, such 
as in southern hospitals. 

Fleet-Surgeon A. Stanley Nance is the Medi- 
cal Transport Officer for Scotland. He is ever 
on the alert for what is going on in the hospitals 
in his territory. In the event of a great sea con- 
flict, he receives orders from Sir James Porter 
and information concerning all the trains which 
are by that time racing to the ports nearest to 
the scene of the engagement. 

In London, the Medical Transport Officer 
can place his finger on a railroad map at any 
time and tell within a mile or so where his trains 
are. If by any possible chance they are delayed 
he receives word from the train surgeons. 

Knowing the probability of further engage- 



58 SOME NAVAL YARNS 

ments In the North Sea, quite a number of 
wealthy private individuals have interested 
themselves in the hospitals on the East Coast 
from north to south. And these persons take 
especial interest in the trains, many of them 
making it a point to be at the railroad station 
whenever a Royal Naval Ambulance train pulls 
in. What with sick men and accidents, the trains 
now and again may have a full quota of patients 
without there having been a fleet engagement. 
In war time no man who is not physically fit is 
kept aboard ship, for he may not take up anoth- 
er man's place without being able to perform 
his work. 

Exigencies of war have caused the speedy 
transformation of buildings in many parts of 
England into hospitals. There also are institu- 
tions constructed in temporary form, architec- 
turally not works of art, but wonderfully useful. 
The surgeons at these latter places have wrought 
marvels in obtaining good light in the wards and 
operating-rooms, and creating a comfortable at- 
mosphere in the exteriorly dingy places. 

The starting-point or headquarters of the am- 
bulance trains is in the South, and when they 
plough their way North they carry no patients. 



SOME XAVAL YARNS 59 

The complement of these trains is from forty to 
fifty hands, and they all look upon the train as a 
ship, and use sailors' terms. It is the "Sick Bay 
Express." 



IX. A RUN IN A ROYAL NAVAL 
AMBULANCE TRAIN 

I OBTAINED permission to make a "voyage" in an 
ambulance train. 

On a grey, drizzling morning one of the 
Royal Naval trains glided into a siding at 
Queensferry — a dozen miles from Edinburgh. 
In less than ten minutes six hefty stretcher-bear- 
ers steadily and silently bore the first cot patient 
from a waiting ambulance to the war-coloured 
train. Cot then followed cot with precision, 
only two of the patients being in the open at a 
time; and as quickly as mortals could accom- 
plish it these cots were set swinging in the "eyes" 
set for the lanyards. 

Being about half-past eight o'clock, nobody 
had much to say. The faces of the sick and 
wounded bluejackets told you nothing as they 
lazily gazed around them while being hoisted 
into the hospital train. They looked like men 
sewed into white sailcloth sacks. Surgeons, with 
two and three gold stripes, between which runs 

60 



SOME NAVAL YARNS 61 

the red — blood red, some say — denoting their 
department in the Navy, glanced occasionally at 
the patients. 

"Carry on, there," then came from the 
R.N.V.R. lieutenant in charge of the stretcher- 
bearers, when one of the coaches had received its 
quota of sick and wounded. Then the sliding 
doors of the next coach yawned for its measure 
of sick men, who presented an interesting rather 
than a pathetic picture, for every bluejacket 
wore his cap, looking like a sailor who had gone 
to bed with his clothes on. That cap travels with 
him like his papers. The bluejacket has many 
important things which he conceals in it, and 
the most important of all is his package of "gasp- 
ers," as he terms his particular brand of ciga- 
rettes. The cap is placed firmly on his head, and 
occasionally a flannelled arm protruded from 
the cot. No moan or groan escaped from these 
plucky patients, for the sailor always lives up 
to the traditions of the Royal Navy. 

From one of the cots there showed a head cov- 
ered in bandages with only two small openings 
for the patient's eyes. His cap was on his bed. 
As this sailor was being hoisted into the train a 
deep voice came from the bed: — 

"Mind yer eye, Bill, or yer'll get yer feet wet." 



62 SOME NAVAL YARNS 

Bill was a "sitting case." He had come up on 
the same ambulance as his pal. He had been in 
the same fo'castle and had been hurt in the same 
accident. And now they were going aboard the 
same train to the same port. Bill paid little heed 
at that moment to his chum as he picked his way 
through the water and mud. His right arm was 
in a sling and the comforting cigarette between 
his teeth. Standing on the last rung of the little 
ladder before going into the car, I heard him say 
to another sailor: — 

"She's over yonder. Bye-bye for the present." 

His cap came off as he looked in the direction 
of the great deep water where lay the hazy forms 
of ships. Others looked, but said nothing about 
the sailor doffing his cap to his grey-steel sweet- 
heart who had weathered the fight against odds. 

"That makes i lo," said the train surgeon. 
"Six, four, seventy-three, twenty-seven — what?" 

The first two numerals denote officers, sitting 
and cot cases, and the latter two those of the 
men. 

"Right-o," quoth the officer of the stretcher- 
bearers. 

Soon the grey train steamed out, with orders 
to make a stop for a couple of cot cases in Edin- 
burgh. In the Waverley Station a few minutes 



SOME NAVAL YARNS 63 

later the train took aboard the patients, and 
then sped on south. 

Before "she" had been under way very long, 
the surgeon in charge and his assistant walked 
through the coaches, observing the cases on 
board and noting whether any of them needed 
any special attention. 

At noon the cooks and stewards were hustling, 
giving food to men who, I supposed, would only 
require toast and beef-tea. But it takes a lot to 
make a bluejacket lose his hunger. 

"They're all 'Oliver Twists,' " declared the 
train surgeon. 

Now, there is nothing that a sailor of His 
Majesty's Navy likes so much to look at as a 
pretty girl. Hence it was not surprising when I 
heard a voice from one of the cots, after the train 
had stopped at Newcastle, in enthusiastic tones 
blurt out: — 

"From 'ere I can see the purtiest gal I ever 
laid eyes on." 

Business, then, of a movement in every cot. 
Eyes were all front, gazing in the direction of a 
golden-haired beauty, who blushed a deep pink 
when she realised how many pairs of eyes from 
the train were focussed on her. Soon horny 
hands were being kissed in her direction. Shyly, 



64 SOME NAVAL YARNS 

she sent a kiss or two back, and then retired to 
the shadows. 

As I said before, the train is considered a ship. 
It is a case of going to "Sick Bay" and of "out 
pipes" at nine o'clock. They talk of "darkening 
the ship" when the blinds are pulled and the 
lights covered. We arrived at Hull when it was 
dusk, and at the station was, among other per- 
sons. Lady Nunburnholme, whose husband is 
the chief owner of the Wilson Line of steam- 
ships, and who takes a deep interest in the am- 
bulance trains and the sailors' hospital in her 
town. No matter at what hour one of the Royal 
Naval trains is due, Lady Nunburnholme is at 
the depot, always eager to have a word with the 
men, and give them cigarettes and cheer them 
up. 

By error, that evening a clergyman or naval 
chaplain, who had been hurt on a warship, was 
put in the coach with the men. The surgeon 
made the discovery, and said he would have the 
padre moved into the officers' quarters at the 
next stop. 

"I'm a humbug," said the cheery pastor. 
"There's nothing wrong with me. Just go ahead 
looking after the men." 

Plymouth was to be the next stop. We were 







CAPTAIN MACLACHLAN WITH HIS DOG, WHO IS SHOWING 
HOW THE GERMANS SURRENDER 



SOME NAVAL YARNS 65 

due there at half-past seven o'clock the following 
morning. At midnight the chief surgeon walked 
through the train to see that all was well, and he 
was attracted by a man coughing. He directed 
that something be given to this patient. 

"Don't want to have one man keep half a 
dozen awake needlessly," said the surgeon. 

Then there was an officer who could not go to 
sleep. He was a medical case, suffering from 
rheumatism. But what kept him awake was the 
thought that he might lose his ship. There was 
a sailor who had fallen on his vessel, knocked 
four of his teeth out, and cut his head. Why he 
had to go to "Sick Bay" for such a trifle was be- 
yond him. In the dark hours of the early morn- 
ing one might have seen the faithful surgeon 
again going through his train, speaking in whis- 
pers to those who lay awake, asking them if there 
was anything they needed and what pain they 
had. 

"I've got pains all over me, and me 'ead feels 
scorchin' with the bangin' that's goin' on inside," 
said one man, 

"That's a grumble to get a drink," said the 
surgeon, who told the man to try to go to sleep. 

Devonshire was the scene of gladsome sun- 
shine when the train steamed into the station, de- 



66 SOME NAVAL YARNS 

livered certain patients, and picked up others 
for another port. In his anxiety to get a truck 
out of the way to permit the stretcher-bearers 
uninterrupted passage to the ambulances, a por- 
ter tipped over six and a half dollars' worth of 
milk. The patients grinned at this, and the Sur- 
geon-General on the platform appeared to be 
sorry that so much good milk had gone to waste. 

The terminus of the train was reached at half- 
past seven in the evening. There the coaches 
were cleared of all patients and the train split in 
two to permit of traffic passing. The train-sur- 
geon, having delivered the valuables of the pa- 
tients, walked with me to the naval barracks, 
where for the first time in thirty-six hours he had 
a chance to really rest. 

"Chin-chin," said he, lifting his glass. 'An- 
other run over, and the Germans have not come 
out yet for the real fight." 



X. A TRIP IN A SUBMARINE 

The man who craves excitement is apt to get his 
fill for a while after a trip in a British submarine 
under the North Sea. He may dream of the 
experience for many nights afterwards, and the 
lip of the conning-tower well seems to get higher 
and higher until the water rushes over like an 
incipient Niagara — then he awakens. 

The wind was blowing about 30 knots when 
I boarded the mother ship of the submarines in 
the English East Coast port. It was an unset- 
tled sort of morning, and just after I had walked 
over two narrow planks to the under-sea craft, 
aboard which I was to make a cruise under the 
North Sea, the sun shot forth a widening streak 
of blurred silver like a searchlight on the pranc- 
ing green-grey waves. With care, the two- 
striper skipper gave his orders to get the sub- 
marine under way, and soon he stuck her nose at 
the east. One felt the frost in the air, and fin- 
gers grasping the canvas shield of the conning 
tower were benumbed. 

67 



68 SOME NAVAL YARNS 

Three men stood in line on the aft hatch while 
the submersible glided through the port waters. 
Four other sailors were getting a last good 
lungful of fine fresh sea air for'd. At the con- 
ning tower were the commander, his helmsman, 
and a young lieutenant — the boss of the torpe- 
does. Now and again another officer popped up 
his head through the conning-tower well, and 
that opening to the boat's bowels appeared just 
about large enough for his broad shoulders. The 
nose of the shark-like craft passed through 
white-caps as steadily as a ship on a calm ocean. 

"Hands for'd, sir," announced the junior lieu- 
tenant. 

The commander mumbled an answer, and the 
men were ordered to close the for'd hatches, and 
soon the iron doors were screwed down. The gas 
engines shot off black smoke into the curdling 
wake of the vessel's twin propellers, and as we 
surged along into the uninteresting sea the skip- 
per sang out to have the aft hatches shut. The 
well-disciplined bluejackets instantly obeyed the 
order, and the iron slabs banged to, and I knew 
that those men were busying themselves in their 
particular work of seeing that everything was 
ready for submerging. 

The commander of the submarine was an agile 



SOME ]>^AVAL YARNS 69 

man, about 5 feet 7 inches tall. His face looked 
tired, and there were lines about his eyes, which 
were only for his ship. I do not think that he 
had the chance to give me a look — a real look — 
all the time I was aboard. There was always 
something which needed his attention. I found 
that the speed we were making against the wind 
closed my eyes, for there is very little protection 
on the conning tower of a submarine; and that 
alone might have given the commander that 
tired look. But I gathered afterwards that the 
eyes are strained a good deal in looking for en- 
emy craft. There, in the distance, was the port 
whence we had emerged, and we now were out 
on the breast of the sea in war time. Two miles 
off our port bow was a grey vessel, to which our 
skipper gave his attention for a while. She was 
a British destroyer plunging through the water 
at 22 knots. 

The sun had disappeared behind a bank of 
clouds, but there were still streaks of blue in the 
sky. The commander shot his gaze aft, to star- 
board, port, and before him. Although we were 
heading straight out to sea, the skipper was ever 
on the alert. 

"Motors ready?" asked the commander of the 
sub-lieutenant, whose head showed up from the 



70 SOME NAVAL YARNS 

well after communicating with the engine-room 
chief artificer. 

"Motors ready, sir," was the answer, and the 
younger man wrung his cold hands. 

By that time England's coast was a hazy out- 
line. But on we cut through the waves until 
England disappeared, and soon after the real 
thrill came — the thrill of going down under an 
angry ocean. The gas engines were stopped, and 
the way on the craft was allowed to carry her a 
good distance, following the order from the 
commander. 

That officer looked around, and signalled to a 
British destroyer — another of the warships 
ploughing the waters of the North Sea. A sailor 
expert signalman used his arms as semaphores, 
and an answer soon was received by our skipper. 

On the engine-room telegraph of the subma- 
rine is a word that does not figure on the appara- 
tus of other types of warships : it is "Dive." The 
commander told me that we were going down 
very soon. I observed that the destroyer had 
turned around and was heading out to sea. We 
were almost at a stop, when our skipper told me 
to get into the conning-tower well and to be 
down far enough to give him room. It must be 
realised that immediately after the order to sub- 



SOME NAVAL YARNS 71 

merge has been rung in the engine-room the 
conning-tower hatch is closed. Hence the com- 
mander and his helmsman have no time to lose 
when the submarine is going under, as it takes 
forty-five seconds to submerge an under-sea 
craft, and at times, if pressed, it can be accom- 
plished in thirty seconds. 

Up to that time I had not devoted much at- 
tention to the inside of the conning-tower hatch, 
beyond glancing at the brass ladder. Soon I dis- 
covered that there were two ladders, and that 
the distance to the inside deck of the boat was 
about twice as great as I had imagined. 

After I had taken my foot off the last rung of 
the ladder and stepped on the chilled, wet can- 
vas-covered iron deck, my head was in a whirl 
at the sight of the bowels of brass and steel. The 
skipper had set the arrow at "Dive," and we 
were going down and down — a motion which is 
hardly perceptible to the layman. 

The activity below and the intricate mechan- 
ism of the craft caused me to think more of what 
the men were doing than of my own sensations. 
I wondered how one man could learn it all, for 
the skipper must have an intimate knowledge of 
all the complicated machinery of his vessel. 
There were engines ever5rwhere and little stand- 



72 SOME NAVAL YARNS 

ing room — at least, that is how it appeared on 
the first glance, and even afterwards it was clear 
that no adipose person could hope to survive 
aboard a submarine. 

No sooner had the engine-room received the 
order to submerge than the captain followed his 
helmsman down the conning-tower hatch, and 
he lost not a second in getting to the periscope 
— the eye of his vessel. Soon my attention was 
arrested by the sight of two men sitting side by 
side turning two large wheels. One kept his eye 
on a bubble and turned his wheel to control the 
hydroplanes to keep the craft level, and the 
other man's eyes also watched a bubble in a 
level. His share of the work was to keep the ves- 
sel at the depth ordered by the commander. 

Although I was deeply interested in every- 
thing that went on under the sea in that craft, my 
eyes were continually on the captain, who looked 
like a photographer about to take the picture of 
a wilful baby. The skipper's face was concealed 
behind two black canvas wings of the reflector, 
which keep the many electric lights aboard from 
interfering with his view through the glass. I 
then noticed a door in the stern of the craft— 
about amid-ships — a door which is closed on the 
sight of danger. To me it looked like a reflec- 




LOOKING THROUGH THE PERISCOPE OF A BRITISH SUBMARINE 




LIBERTY BOAT ON SUNDAY AP"TERNOOX WHEN MEN VISIT 
THEIR FRIENDS IN OTHER SHIPS 



SOME NAVAL YARNS 73 

tion, but you soon find out that you are looking 
at the engines of the submarine. There, four 
or five men, ignoring whether they were under 
the water or on the surface, were concentrated 
on their work. One mistake, and the submarine 
and its crew are lost. Hence there is no inat- 
tention to duty. Finally, this door was slammed 
to. 

The air below is not much different to what it 
is when the vessel is on the surface — or not no- 
ticeably different until the craft has been sub- 
merged for several hours. It is then that the 
"bottles" or air tanks are brought into play. I 
walked to the bows of the boat, where a giant 
torpedo was greased and ready for the shutting 
of its compartment. The air-tight tube was then 
locked down, and the missile was ready for its 
victim. But, as I said, lured as you may be to 
gaze at the other parts of the wonderful craft, 
you will find that your gaze comes back to the 
captain — always at the periscope, hands on those 
brass bars that turn the periscope, and eyes glued 
to the reflector. 

"Lower periscope!" he orders. And then: 
"Raise periscope!" He gives these orders with 
clearness; not surprising, as no command must 



74 SOME NAVAL YARNS 

be misunderstood when you are 25 or 30 feet un- 
der the water. 

"Lower periscope!" 

A man in a corner, next to one who has charge 
of the gyroscopic compass, turns a handle, and 
the greased steel cylinder sinks until the captain, 
who had been stretched with toes tipped, now is 
on bended knees, his hands extended to stop the 
periscope man from taking the "eye" further 
down. The captain turns the periscope around, 
scanning the waters. At his right, when the skip- 
per is facing the bows, is another officer, with 
his hand on the trigger of what looks like an 
upward-pointed pistol of brass and steel. This 
officer waits for the command to send off the 
torpedo. 

"Lower foremost periscope into the well," or- 
dered the captain. This periscope was not in 
use and had not been above the surface. It is 
the duplicate "eye," In case the other is out of 
order. 

"Yes," said the captain, not looking at me, 
"she's mostly guts below. Have a look at that 
destroyer. We are going to send a practice tor- 
pedo at her, and she will pick it up and return 
it when we get back home." 

The sleek, lean warship was knifing the waters 



SOME NAVAL YARNS 75 

at 22 knots. It was like looking at a picture — a 
moving picture — and all was beautifully dis- 
tinct. Our commander consulted a card, decid- 
ed the speed of the warship, and then again 
propped his head against the reflector. 

''Raise periscope," ordered the two-striper. 

For the first time aboard the submarine, there 
was something akin to silence, except for the 
swishing of engines and the continuous buzz of 
other mechanism. 

"Light to starboard," voiced the captain. 

''Light to starboard," repeated the helmsman 
at the compass. 

"Tube ready?" asked the commander, his 
head hidden between the black flaps of the per- 
iscope. 

"Tube ready, sir." 

The officer at the trigger stood like a starter at 
a race, his finger on the tongue that was to re- 
lease the torpedo. It was just as it is in the real 
moment of moments and a war craft is the target. 
The men at the two wheels watched their dials 
and their bubbles, and the helmsman had his 
nose on the needle. The commander, the gold 
braid on his cuffs streaked with oil and rust, 
then had but one thought in his mind — to hit 
the target. He looked neither to right nor left 



76 SOME NAVAL YARNS 

but was still at the periscope. The warship was 
there. We were there, and one could imagine 
the tiny periscope just above the water. The 
situation was tense, even if the vessel to be fired 
at was not an enemy craft. 

''Fire!" snapped the captain. 

It was no order for men to spring "over the 
top," no battle-cry that was heard by the enemy, 
but the word under the water that is the order 
for the deadly destroyer to be released and speed 
on its way to the unsuspecting craft. Practice 
torpedo or not, when under the waves of the 
North Sea the word works up a dramatic situa- 
tion hard to equal. The other officers and men 
are interested, and they told me that never does 
the word "Fire" fail to stir the soul of every- 
body aboard. Though the efTect is heightened 
by the knowledge that a great vessel is the tar- 
get and has been bored in twain, the interest is 
still thrilling when the submarine is practising. 
With a shot at the enemy there is, of course, the 
explosion to dread. If the submarine does not 
get away far enough, the explosion of the tor- 
pedo may be the cause of extinguishing all lights 
aboard the submarine, and lamps have then to 
be used. 

There was a tiger-like growl or "g-r-rh" of 



SOME NAVAL YARNS 77 

anger as the tube sent out the greased steel com- 
plicated missile, and outside I pictured the white 
wake that streaked in the direction of the war- 
ship. It was not visible from the periscope, 
which a second after the signal to fire had been 
brought down under the surface. The compara- 
tive stillness was gone, and the inside of the 
submarine seemed to have awakened from a 
doze. There was all bustle and hurry around 
me. The captain shot a look at the gyroscopic 
compass and gave orders for the motors to go 
ahead, and for half an hour the submarine 
pushed about under the surface. Then the com- 
mander had the periscope raised, and on the dis- 
tant horizon I made out the destroyer — a tiny 
thing even in the glass of the magnifying lens 
of the under-sea boat's "eye." 

My feet were numbed with cold as I walked 
for'd and looked at the empty tube. These tor- 
pedoes cost £500 (two thousand, five hundred 
dollars), and in war time they are all set to sink 
if they fail to hit the target; set to sink because 
they might be used by the enemy or get in our 
own way. 

The next thrilling moment came when the 
commander decided to bring his craft to the 
surface. 



78 SOME NAVAL YARNS 

"Come to surface and blow external tanks!" 
ordered the two-striper. "Open five, six, seven, 
eight, to blow!" 

The round, white perforated lungs of the sub- 
marine sucked in the air in the craft. 

"Open one, two, three, four, to blow," came 
from the skipper. 

"One, two, three, four, to blow," I heard 
repeated. 

I felt no perceptible motion of ascending; but 
those lungs were working hard, which could be 
learned by placing your hand over them. The 
captain shot a glance at the dial, which told him 
how far up his vessel had gone, and then mount- 
ed the conning-hatch ladder, and soon one ob- 
served a spot of daylight. A sea washed over the 
submarine, filling the commander's boots with 
water. He was followed by a sailor, who quick- 
ly attached the lowered sailcloth bridge to the 
rails of the conning tower. Then the captain's 
expert and watchful eye caught bubbles coming 
from one of the tanks. 

"Close one!" he shouted down the hatch. 

"Close one," repeated the sub-lieutenant. 

"Two, five, and seven," came from the voice 
outside, and so on, until soon all the tanks had 
pumped out their water and were filled with air; 



SOME NAVAL YARNS 79 

and, for the sake of accuracy, each order was 
sounded again below. 

"Bring her around to north," said the com- 
mander. 

When we submerged it had been a chilly day, 
with a peep of the sun every now and again. 
The weather had changed since we left our berth 
under the sea. The sky was overcast, and snow 
was falling. And this change in the weather 
had taken place while the captain had been ac- 
complishing one of Jules Verne's dreams. 

We sped farther out to sea; this time on the 
qui vive for enemy craft. But the enemy is care- 
ful not to give the British submarine much of 
a chance at his warships, only sneaking out oc- 
casionally under cover of darkness with a couple 
of destroyers. Nevertheless, John Bull's diving 
boats are ever on the alert; and the man with 
whom I went under the North Sea had per- 
formed deeds of daring which never involved 
the sinking of a neutral vessel or of endangering 
the life of a non-belligerent. 

It was the time for luncheon. Luncheon I 
You get an idea that the life aboard a submarine 
is not all sunshine and white uniforms when you 
see the berth for the commander and his chief 
officer. They are just a couple of shelves, and 



80 SOME NAVAL YARNS 

are not used very often at that. It was explained 
to me that when you are running a submarine 
you do not go in much for sleep. Luncheon con- 
sisted of a cup of coffee and a piece of canned 
beef on a stale slice of bread. Tinned food is 
about all that can be used aboard a submarine. 
It does not take up much room, and it requires 
little in the way of cooking utensils. We were 
still having our luncheon below when we dived 
again, so for the first time in my life I found 
m3^self having a meal under the sea. 

It was hours afterwards that we slipped into 
the darkened harbour and found the mother 
ship, where the officers enjoy some of the real 
comforts of life. 

''Have a Pandora cocktail?" asked my cap- 
tain. 

We imbibed joyfully. The commander then 
changed his clothes, and we sat down to dinner 
— a late dinner, most of the other members of 
the mess having finished half an hour before. 

And if you ask me about sensations while 
under the water, again I must confess that I was 
too busy looking and learning to experience 
anything but a fear that I might omit something 
of importance during the time the captain was 
getting ready for his target. Being under the 



SOME NAVAL YARNS 81 

sea, however, gave me a thrill felt long after- 
wards, and I left knowing something of the 
hardships that England's sea dogs suffer while 
guarding their island kingdom. 



XI. LIFE IN A LIGHTHOUSE 

The old man led the way to the sturdy stone 
structure on top of which were the great horns 
which sound the warning in foggy weather to 
ships at sea. He was proud of the lighthouse, 
of which he was the principal keeper; and just 
before he started to explain to me the wonders 
of the compressed-air engines, he remarked: — 

''First, you must know that a lighthouse-keep- 
er's job is to watch for a fog." 

"What's your name?" I asked. He was the 
first real lighthouse-keeper I had met. 

The lighthouseman looked at me and then at 
one of the coast watchers. He was a slender man 
of about sixty years, who, I had been told, was 
enjoying the work he had set out to do long, long 
before there was a thought of a great war. 

"T. G. Cutting," he replied, "the RK. here." 

It was on the western Cornish coast, where, as 
in other places in and off English shores, the 
lighthouses, war or no war, from sunset to sun- 
rise cut the darkness with their long beams of 

82 



SOME NAVAL YARNS 83 

whiteness and, when necessary, sound the fog- 
horn. You do not see any young men who are 
not in khaki or navy blue, and the old men are 
wonders, with their binoculars and telescopes. 
Mr. Cutting had been within sound of the sea 
ever since he was born. First, he had seen serv- 
ice on a lighthouse on the rocks, as they say, and 
from the rocks he graduated to a land job, and 
thence back to the rocks, and again on to the 
land. We read stories of the lighth(|^ase-keeper; 
but little is written on the modern man of this 
species. Mr. Cutting is not accustomed to the 
glare of the city's lights, but he knows the glare 
of a lighthouse-lantern and all the various won- 
ders of the work. 

Inside the annex to the lighthouse were the 
duplicate engines for filling tanks with com- 
pressed air. This air is used for blowing the 
foghorns, and when they sound everybody in the 
locality knows it. 

"Enough air is stored in those tanks," declared 
Mr. Cutting, "to keep the foghorns going for 
twenty minutes. That gives us time to get the 
engines running." 

He went into details of the engines, showing 
that he knew them by heart, and I could almost 
imagine the blurring, deafening sound which 



84 SOME NAVAL YARNS 

for seven seconds rent the air through the roar 
of winds every minute and a half. 

"Fog, as you know, is the dread of every sea 
captain," said Mr. Cutting. "Out yonder you see 
the 'Three Stone Orr Rocks.' This is a danger- 
ous bit of scenery in foggy weather. When we 
have a fog, two men are on duty; one if it is 
clear." 

We then went to the lighthouse tower, which 
stands nearly 200 feet above high water. To the. 
right, on entering that building, was a black- 
smith's shop, with an anvil, forge, and various 
implements. This forge is occasionally needed 
to make repairs, spare parts, and accessories of 
the engines of the lighthouse. To the right, in a 
corridor, were speaking-tubes. 

"Those tubes go to the bedside of every man 
employed here," said Mr. Cutting. "We have 
only to blow, and in a few minutes he comes up 
to the lighthouse. Our houses are over there, in 
the same structure as the tower. They are prac- 
tically the lower portion of the main building." 

He conducted the way up the narrow, winding 
stairs. At the head of the first flight I saw a 
green-covered book, in which every man on 
watch makes his entry of the weather, the ve- 
locity of the wind, and so forth. 



SOME XAVAL YARNS 85 

''Many a man's word has been corrected by 
that book," said the P.K. "And here's the book 
for privileged visitors, for nobody comes here 
without the proper credentials." 

There were names of famous persons inscribed 
in the book, which was kept as neatly and clean- 
ly as everything else in the place. 

"Now we'll go up to the lantern," said the old 
man. Old, but lithe, strong, and keen eyed. 
He is particularly fond of this lantern, and was 
remarkably lucid in explaining everything con- 
cerning the working of it. 

"Does the sea ever come up as high as this?" 
I asked. 

"We get the spray, and that is all," answered 
the P.K. "It's dirty weather when that hap- 
pens. But the water usually has spent its force 
when it reaches this height." 

The exterior windows of the lantern were dia- 
mond shaped and of plate glass. In the middle 
of the lantern was the large concentric-ringed 
glass of great magnifying power. 

"You can turn it round with your little fin- 
ger," said the P.K. "That's because it floats in 
a mercury bath. And in turning that you are 
moving four tons. When the lantern is lighted, 
it shows dark for seven and a half seconds, then 



86 SOME NAVAL YARNS 

two sets of four flashes, making a complete revo- 
lution every half-minute. They can see the 
light at sea on a clear night for nineteen miles. 
The light is worked by vaporised oil. The com- 
pressed air drives the oil to the lantern, up 
through that burner in a hole hardly big enough 
to take a pin point. It is nearly half a million 
candle-power. This type of light is considered 
even better than electricity. In the old-style oil- 
lights they burned five quarts in the same time 
that this one consumes a pint with better re- 
sults." 

The actual burner of the lantern is disappoint- 
ing, as one expects to see a giant burner. Really, 
it is only about twice the size of the average 
household one. 

Mr. Cutting observed that the light was care- 
fully timed, and called attention to the half- 
minute hand on the clock in the tower. Persons 
are always asking the P.K. how he spends his 
time, and he wondered why. He believed that 
anybody ought to see that there was plenty for 
a man to do while he is on a four hours' watch 
in the tower. The turning of the light, showing 
black outside and then flashing its warnings, 
after his many years of experience of such 
things, is only taken for granted by this P.K. 



SOME NAVAL YARNS 87 

"And when I've finished lighting the lamp, 
trimming up things a bit," said the P.K., "I sit 
down like anybody else. Lots of people seem to 
forget that the lighthouse-keeper is not the coast- 
guard or the head of the crew of a life-saving 
station. They have their work to attend to, but 
"we watch for fogs night and day. When a man 
is stationed at a lighthouse like the Longships, 
which is a little distance out on a rock, he may be 
a couple of months without being relieved. But 
he has others with him, and a good stock of food. 
If he wishes to communicate with the land, he 
does so by signals ; and that's the way men over 
there talk with their wives who live in cottages 
on shore. The telephone has not been found 
feasible, wires breaking all the time; so their 
wives have learned to wig-wag to them. 

"One night they got a scare on shore; thought 
that the men on the Longships were sending up 
distress signals. It was bad weather, and every 
now and again the coast watcher saw a green 
light on the Longships. And what do you think 
that green light was? Just the water running 
over the bright light when it flashed! As it 
washed the glasses it showed up green." 

There were curtains of sailcloth put over the 
windows to obscure the sunlight. I asked the 



88 SOME NAVAL YARNS 

P.K. about this, and he told me that the great 
magnifying lens of the light would burn things 
if the sun got on it for long enough. So, much 
as they like the sun in Cornwall, they have to 
keep it out. 

"I shall be on duty to-night from twelve until 
four o'clock," observed the P.K. "But I've got 
accustomed to the running of the machinery." 

So down we went. The last I saw of the P.K. 
was when the old Cornishman, emptying cans of 
oil into the tank to supply the light which warns 
mariners, shouted: — 

"Getting pretty fresh now. Hope to see you 
again." 



XII. WATCHERS OF THE COAST 

Circling Great Britain are thousands of expert 
coast-watchers, whose duty not only is to watch 
for ships, wrecks, and smugglers, as in the days 
before the war, but also to be on guard for enemy 
submarines and suspicious craft. It is the oft- 
spoken opinion of many an inland inhabitant 
that certain sections of th*e coast would afford 
a base for U-boats. However, these persons have 
no conception of the thoroughness with which 
John Bull guards his coast-lines. Mile after 
mile, shores and rocks are under the eye of alert 
navy men and volunteers, the latter being civil- 
ians who have spent their lives by the sea. They 
know their business, and even though they are 
volunteers, the discipline is rigid. But they are 
not the type of men to shirk their duty, for they 
would take it as missing a God-given opportun- 
ity if their eyes were closed at the time they 
could help their country most. After travelling 
around part of the coast-line, a stranger leaves 
with the opinion that there is little chance for a 
man even to swim ashore under cover of night. 

89 



90 SOME NAVAL YARNS 

From John o' Groat's to Land's End and all 
around Ireland, these coast-watchers — men over 
military age, wiry and strong, with eyes like fer- 
rets — scan the rocks and beaches hour after hour, 
noting passing vessels, receiving and detailing 
information, and always keeping up communi- 
cation with the ring and its various centres. 
Their little stone huts are on the highest point 
in their particular area, and their homes usually 
are only a couple of hundred yards distant. 
Their chiefs are coast-guards of the old days 
called back to their former service in the Royal 
Navy. These men rule the volunteers with a 
rod of iron. No matter what section of the coast 
one may pick, the coast-watcher is ready with 
his glasses or telescope. Suspicious acts of any 
individuals receive speedy attention, and each 
batch of the guards vies with the next for keen 
performance of duty. 

There is a halo of interest around these men, 
tame as their work may appear to them at times. 
Take the watchers on the Scilly Isles, for in- 
stance. They are as good as any around Great 
Britain. It is second nature for them to watch 
the sea. It is a desire with them, something they 
would not miss. Their fathers, grandfathers, 
and great-grandfathers were watch-dogs on that 



SOME KAVAL YARNS 91 

area of the ocean. Go to St. Mary's, and you 
will see a coast-watcher, up soon after dawn, 
take a stroll along the beach, even when he is 
not supposed to be on duty and before he has 
tasted his morning tea. The family telescope 
is at his eye, as he wants to get a good look at 
what the sea has been doing, and what is there. 
To the uninitiated, it seems to have the same 
paucity of interest as any other shipless stretch of 
water; but to this expert it has a story. He 
notes the clouds, the sun, the very rocks; and 
they say that his gaze is so sharp that it would 
spot a champagne-cork floating some distance 
away. But be that as it may, there is no enemy 
periscope that is going to pass unobserved at a 
certain distance by this hawk-eyed, wind-seared 
man. 

He goes to his cottage for breakfast, and talks 
about the sea, then leaves the table, and has 
another good look; and it is sadly disappointing 
to any of these men to have missed a passing ship. 
Prior to the declaration of hostilities, a wreck 
was the greatest piece of news to the community; 
but now it is the glimpse of fast English war- 
ships, and the anticipation of sighting a German 
U-boat, and thus being the cause of the craft's 
doom. 



92 SOME NAVAL YARNS 

"Gun-firing heard at ten minutes past twelve 
o'clock to-day," said one man, reading from a 
slip he had just made out on the subject. 

The man to whom he spoke happened to have 
been out of hearing distance, and he could not 
believe it until a second man came along with 
the same report. It was handed down the line, 
over to other shores, and the watchers speculated 
as to what had taken place. 

Arthur Oddy, who has charge of half a dozen 
watchers, told me that his one great regret was 
that he had not seen a sign of the war, barring 
uniforms. Nevertheless, for more than two and 
a half years he has scanned the sea and shore 
of his district with dutiful care, and has seen 
to it that his men have not been amiss in their 
share of the tedious task. His station is very 
near the Last House in England, at Land's End 
— a tea place kept by Mrs. E. James. 

"What is that out there?" exclaimed a stran- 
ger, suddenly. "Looks like part of a boat." 

"That," declared Oddy, "is the Shark's Fin— 
a rock." 

True enough, the rock of that name might 
have at times been a giant fish or a wrecked sub- 
marine. It was lashed by the foamy waters, dis- 
appeared, and then showed a bit, again was swal- 



SOME NAVAL YARNS 93 

lowed up, and seemed to reappear a yard or so 
further along from where it first was seen. Fi- 
nally, you observed that it was a sharp, danger- 
ous rock. 

A mile or so farther along that coast I encoun- 
tered John Thomas Wheeler, the wearer of sev- 
eral medals, including a gold one received since 
the war commenced from the King of Sweden. 
In peace time, just before the war, Wheeler did 
his bit to save wrecked mariners. He is still 
doing it in war time, with his eyes open for 
everything. As we stood there, with the sea 
lashing the shingly beach and hammering the 
rocks, Wheeler, chief officer of that station, re- 
called the story of the wreck of the Trifolium, 
a. Swedish sailing ship. 

*'It was terrible rough," said Wheeler, "when 
through the darkness we saw the green light of 
the distress-signals. I shot off a rocket with a 
rope to the forepart of the vessel. The men, 
who were clinging to the rigging, paid no at- 
tention to it. Then I sent off another rope be- 
tween the main and the mizzen masts. First, 
they paid no heed to that; but, finally, one mail 
in oilskins jumped into the sea to catch hold of 
part of the rope. He was followed by others. 
Perilous though it was on that night, we walked 



94 SOME NAVAL YARNS 

out to help the men ashore. One after another, 
gasping and unconscious sailors were landed. 
Then the ship broke in half, and soon was torn 
to bits by the sea. I was looking for more men, 
as I had seen one poor chap under the steel mast 
when it fell. A wave struck me, and I found 
myself caught between two rocks. It looked all 
up for me, as I could not move. 

Wheeler's awful position was not at first 
realised, and his cries for help could not be 
heard through the din of the ocean. Finally, 
he was struck down by the turbulent sea, and 
one of his men, signalling to another, went to 
their chief's rescue. Wheeler was unconscious 
when he was brought up on the beach. For his 
share in the rescue work, besides the King of 
Sweden's medal, Wheeler received medals from 
the Royal Humane Society and the Board of 
Trade. 

In that corner of England every one is on 
the qui vive for the unexpected. The women 
have their telescopes and glasses, and they do 
their share, despite the fact that the regular 
men of that locality are on duty. Mrs. James's 
tea-refreshment place is often the near-by house 
to where men are scanning the horizon with 
their glasses, noting the flags on vessels, if they 



SOME NAVAL, YARNS 95 

have any in these days, and keeping up a peace- 
time look out, for it is a dangerous point in bad 
weather. The Last or First House in England, 
whichever one wishes to consider it, is covered 
with names and initials of persons from all over 
the world. Curiously enough, since the war 
there have been no wrecks in that theatre, while 
in the six months prior to the great conflict there 
were two or three. 

Local heads of the coast-watchers or guards 
have the prerogative of commandeering horses 
or automobiles when necessary. If there is a 
ship ashore or on the rocks, signal-rockets are 
sent up to collect the coast-guards ; and it would 
seem that a couple of these would wake most of 
the persons in that corner of England. 

The real business of the coast-guards, and that 
to which they devote themselves in peace or war, 
is firing rockets over a ship in distress and try- 
ing to land the crew. 

It was ten or twelve miles from that point that 
I met a chief watcher who had been blown up in 
a British battleship, and had thus earned a pe- 
riod of shore duty. He was "carrying on" for 
humanity and country, and only a short time be- 
fore he had been the means of rescuing the crew 



96 SOME NAVAL YARNS 

of a small neutral sailing ship — a German vic- 
tim. 

We sped on farther north, and every three or 
four miles there was the inevitable watcher, who 
can telephone, telegraph, and fire rockets when 
occasion demands. It is all a modernised coast- 
guard system, the men being first ready for ships 
in distress, but always on the alert for the en- 
emy. 



XIII. CROSSING THE CHANNEL IN 
WAR TIME 



This is the story of a British naval officer's trip 
to the Western fighting ground as he told it to 
me the day he returned to London : — 

"'Four days!' said I to myself. 'Not very 
long in which to get a real taste of the World 
War on land.' However, the morning after I 
had received 'leave' I departed from London 
in an automobile and as we sped through the 
country there seemed, at first, to be little to re- 
mind us that England was at war — except, per- 
haps, the many busy persons on all farms and 
fields. Finally, we came across a mobile air-sta- 
tion on which were two aeroplanes with folded 
wings. It was something which made you think. 

"In a South Coast port, however, there was 
military activity everywhere. On the waters, 
far out from the harbour, which one imagines as 
denuded of craft, I saw dozens of ships. There 
were large and small tramps, mine-sweepers, 
and trawlers, and you were fascinated by the 

97 



98 SOME NAVAL YARNS 

sight. There was a dread lest one of them might 
disappear through a mine or a torpedo any in- 
stant. 

"Thousands of soldiers were at the dock, wait- 
ing to embark on ships for France. A couple of 
thousand of them belonged to the Scotch Labour 
Battalion, ready for work with pick and shovel. 
Their speech was almost like a foreign language 
as they 'Jock'd' and 'Donal'd,' joked and sang, 
when they swung aboard the vessel in single 
file. 

"There was no waving of handkerchiefs and 
no shouting good-byes when the black-and-tan 
craft was ready to leave. The skipper was on 
the bridge. He looked down at an officer ashore, 
nodded his head, and the other returned the 
nod. Hawsers were instantly slipped, and the 
steamer skipped away from the British port on 
the minute, and soon met her escort — destroy- 
ers, out of sight not long since, now ready for 
their job. These slender speedsters of the sea 
never stop ; so everything must be done accord- 
ing to schedule. Four of the destroyers sur- 
rounded us as we ploughed through the water. 

"From the bridge came the order for every 
soul aboard to put on a life-belt, and our friends 
from Scotland hastened aft to obtain the equip- 



SOME NAVAL YARNS 99 

ment, scurrying and bustling about the damp 
cabin for the best belts. 

"Half-way across the straits we met the op- 
posite number vessel to ours. She had an es- 
cort of three warships, so that for a flash there 
were seven destroyers on the breast of that wa- 
ter. But it was not for long. A swish, and they 
were nearer England and we nearer France, 
they getting some of our smoke and we some of 
theirs. Steamers go into the French port stern 
first, and soon I found myself treading French 
soil. Our Scotch labourers were hurried off the 
vessel, and they vanished with extarordinary 
quickness; and this also reminds me that no 
sooner was our steamship safe in the harbour 
than the warships nipped off to England, and 
all you could see in a few minutes was a wrathe 
of water and smoke as they raced homewards. 

"The skipper of the passenger craft has seen 
exciting times. While I stood on the bridge 
with him and his first officer, he told me of a 
night he won't easily forget. He was running the 
Queen, and going over empty, having smuggled 
aboard a staff officer who had missed the other 
vessel. It was darkening, and the Queen was 
about four miles off the British coast when this 
skipper saw dark hulls, blanched lines, and flam- 



100 SOME NAVAL YARNS 

ing funnels — all showing terrific speed. First, 
he took the strange craft to be new French de- 
stroyers; but they hailed him in English, and, of 
course, for an instant he thought then they were 
British warships, when suddenly it dawned on 
him. 'By God, they're Germans!' he ejaculated 
to the staff officer. *Nip into the cabin, and get 
those clothes off and into an oilskin, fast as you 
like.' 

"The army man got it done just in time, for 
an officer and two men from one of the German 
destroyers sprang aboard the Queen after the 
enemy warship had bumped the passenger craft. 
The German demanded the captain's papers, 
and was told that everything had been thrown 
overboard. 

*'The Germans were pale, and the pistol in 
the officer's hand shook dangerously. The skip- 
per declared that the only papers relating to the 
Queen were in his cabin. 

" 'Get those papers, or I'll blow your head 
off,' " said the German. Below, the captain 
moved his hand to his hip pocket to get his keys, 
the German started, and put the muzzle of his 
revolver close to the Britisher's head. As the 
captain was unlocking a drawer, the German 
again became suspicious, and warned the skip- 




SOME NAVAL YARNS 101 

per. The Briton told the German to get the 
papers himself, and, finally, the useless docu- 
ment relating to the Queen was taken from the 
drawer. It was snatched up and pocketed by 
the German officer. Meanwhile, his men had 
fixed bombs in vital parts aboard the passenger 
craft, and the order was given to abandon ship. 

'^ust before the bang came and the Queen 
sank, the German decided that he wanted to take 
the skipper with him. Fortunately, the captain 
had been missed in their tremulous excitement 
However, the Germans could not wait, and they 
had to go away without the skipper. It was an 
experience no man would forget; and the Brit- 
ish of it is that this same man, who had a pretty 
good chance of spending many months in a Ger- 
man prison camp, is still guiding vessels flying 
our flag from France to England and England 
to France. 

*'In Boulogne, I had to take a train for Paris. 
It was the longest train I ever set eyes on. One 
end of it seemed to be in the dock station while 
the other was on the outskirts of the town. You 
can get an idea of its length when I say that it 
had to stop twice at all stations. There was no 
attempt at speed until we got within twenty 
miles of Paris." 



102 SOME NAVAL YARNS 

In a railroad station in Paris this officer en- 
countered a friend who was a commander in the 
Royal Naval Air Service, and the traveller 
thereupon decided that nobody could give him 
a better idea of the war in the brief time at his 
disposal than this man. Hence, after a dash to 
the hotel and taking chances of getting his suit- 
case, the sea-fighter, with only a tooth-brush and 
a piece of soap, finally joined the flying man, 
and off they went to the war. My naval friend 
continued: — 

"War stared at us after we had passed through 
Chantilly, and on the way to Amiens we sped by 
forty or fifty ambulances. It was at the Cafe 
Gobert, in Amiens, that we got out of the auto- 
mobile and had luncheon. That town was 
thronged with nonchalant women and blue-clad 
poilus. Following our refreshment, we con- 
tinued our journey. We ran into soldiers and 
guns, aeroplanes, and more guns of all calibres; 
there must have been two miles of them in one 
batch that we passed on the way to Arras, as 
well as 'umpty' parks of lorries. 

"The first steam engine that I got a chance of 
seeing since leaving England was an antiquated 
London, Chatham, and Dover locomotive at- 
tached to a long train of cars filled with provi- 



SOME NAVAL^ YARNS 103 

sions and so forth, helped out by Belgian and 
French engines. The rail-head, not far from 
that particular 'somewhere,' reminded me of 
Whiteley's shop in London. Then I observed 
a dozen fire-engines painted khaki colour. 
There were officers' baths, coal and wood on lor- 
ries, tents, and everything you can think of — 
and a lot you can't. Ammunition dumps were 
on our right and left, and the occasional gleam 
of a sentry's bayonet let you know that somebody 
was on watch. 

"As I was the guest of the Royal Naval Air 
Service, it was naturally gratifying to come to 
the home of that service or section of it; the spot 
which had been barren land two days before 
was now the scene of great activity. Mess tents 
were comfortably fixed up, electric light being 
obtained from lorries. There were workshops 
on lorries. The Royal Flying Corps also had a 
station near by. These ingenious Air Service 
men do all their repairing on the spot. If a 
lorry gets stuck in the mud they just use enough 
lorries until they pull it out. 

"Our Rolls-Royce darted into the air on one 
stretch of bad road. It bumped out our dynamo, 
and we made the rest of the way along the dark 
road behind a staff car. 



104 SOME NAVAL YARNS 

"By that time there was no doubt but that we 
were at the war — passing between two lines of 
our heavy artillery on the snow covered ground. 
The splashes of fire — red on the glistening white 
— formed a memorable picture. 

"Every now and again, the snow was lighted 
up by the star-shells, which hung in the air and 
then dropped like a rain of gold on the silver 
ground. The thunder of the guns was pleasing, 
and as each shell sped on its errand, the unfor- 
gettable scene became more beautiful, with the 
glow from the star-shells and the sight of men, 
silhouetted in the temporary light against the 
white-blanketed earth, going about their duty, as 
some of them had done for more than two and a 
half years. On we dashed, until we heard a 
challenging voice, and discerned a French poilu. 

" 'Aviation anglaise,' announced my friend. 
After satisfying himself, the sentry permitted us 
to continue on our way. A little further on, to 
our chagrin, we learned that a lorry had broken 
down on a bridge, and that if our car could not 
pass it, it would mean a detour of nine miles. 
However, our excellent chauffeur was equal to 
the occasion. After bending the mud-guards, 
following the taking of measurements, he drove 



SOME NAVAL YARNS 105 

the machine over in safety with not half an inch 
to spare. 

"Guns boomed as they had been booming for 
thirty months. This gives you food for thought 
at the front. Finally, we came to Dunkirk, and 
there enjoyed uninterrupted repose after our 
long ride in the biting weather. Next morning 
I was up early, and before I had breakfast I 
watched a seaplane turning and twisting, riding 
first tail downward and then head downward, 
dropping a thousand feet, and then righting it- 
self, and outdoing the looping-the-loop idea. 
I ventured commendation for this pilot's ex- 
ploits. 

" 'Pretty good youngster,' said the com- 
mander. 'Soon be able to give him a journey 
he's been longing to have.' 

"This youngster certainly seemed to me a past 
master in the flying art. 

''My interest next was centred on several 
barges probing their way through the canal. 
They were manned by soldiers in khaki, and 
these soldier-sailors belonged to the I.W.T. — 
the Inland Water Transport. 

"Later, I had the satisfaction of firing of¥ one 
of the big guns at the Huns, and then of going 
into an observation post from whence we 



106 SOME NAVAL YARNS 

watched shells bursting on the German lines. 
The Germans were fairly silent, while we were 
putting over quite a lot of stuff. My next shot 
at the Boche was with 'Polly,' whose shell spat 
forth at her opposite number, known on our 
side of the lines as 'Peanought.' 

"It was decidedly interesting in the trenches, 
almost as near the German lines as we are at any 
point. There was the occasional thunder of the 
artillery, coupled with the report of a rifle, 
which told that the sniper was on the job, and 
now and again the 'bang-zizz' of the German 
trench mortar projectile — known better as 'Min- 
nie.' 

"At the seaplane station I met a young officer 
who two days before had flown over from Eng- 
land in the early morning and was to dine that 
same night with friends in London. His only 
worry was that he might possibly miss the boat 
to take him back to keep the dinner engagement. 
Then there was a young man — eighteen years 
old, to be specific — who had accounted for thir- 
teen of the enemy aeroplanes. 

"My next experience was aboard a destroyer 
which took me to England. I had not worn an 
overcoat during my trip, but I was glad of a 
duffel coat on that speedy craft." 



SOME NAVAL YARNS 107 

The commander glanced at his watch, and 
observed he had just half an hour in which to get 
to King's Cross Station. 



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